Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


lO^ 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


/   /  ^  ^^c^i^a^/^^^^x-c^^-^y^ 


GREEK   THINKERS 


GREEK   THINKERS 


A   HISTORY   OF  ANCIENT   PHILOSOPHY 


By   THEODOR   GOMPERZ 

PROFESSOR    AT   THE    UNIVERSITY    OF    VIENNA,    AND   MEMBER   OF 

THE   IMPERIAL   ACADKMV  ;    HON.    LL.D.,  DUBLIN 

HON.    PH.D.,    KONIGSBERG 


AUTHORIZED    EDITION 


Volume  I 

TR.\NSL.\TErj   BV 

LAURIE    MAGNUS,    M..\. 

MAGUAI.EN    COI.I.KGE,    OXFOKI) 


LONDON 

JOHN     MURRAY,    ALBEMARLE    STREET 

1 90 1 


LONDON  : 

PRINTED   BY  WILLIAM  CLOWES  AND  SONS,   LIMITED, 

STAMFORD   STREET  AND  CHARING  CROSS. 


College 
Library 


Cj  5'^E 


Ka  tijr 
MEMORY   OF   HIS   MOTHER 

DEC.    19,    1792  :  APRIL  30,    l88l 
THE   AUTHOR 

DEDICATES   THIS    VOLUME 


.  c\  r-  f  •„  O 


n 


TRANSLATOR'S    PREFACE. 


The  present  version  of  the  first  volume  of  Griechische 
Denker  has  been  rendered  directly  from  the  German  edition 
of  1896,  published  by  Veit  &  Company  of  Leipsic,  which 
was  placed  in  my  hands  in  June,  1899.  In  the  later  stages 
of  my  work  I  have  incurred  a  considerable  obligation  to 
the  author,  whose  masterly  knowledge  of  English  has 
helped  to  purge  the  proof-sheets  of  my  translation  from 
the  errors  into  which  I  had  been  betrayed.  The  confidence 
with  which  I  now  present  it  to  English  readers  is  largely 
due  to  the  fact  that  every  doubtful  point  has  been 
thoroughly  discussed  in  proof  and  revise  between  Professor 
Gomperz  and  myself.  In  no  single  instance  has  he  failed 
to  make  his  meaning  clear  to  me,  and  I  must  take  the 
sole  responsibility  for  any  errors  that  may  remain.  I 
welcome  this  opportunity,  too,  of  expressing  my  cordial 
thanks  to  Frau  Professor  Gomperz,  whose  interest  in  the 
book  and  complete  command  of  its  subject  have  been  of 
the  utmost  service  to  me  throughout  the  course  of  my 
labours. 

It  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation  on  my  part, 
though  it  would  add  considerably  to  my  pleasure,  to 
introduce  this  book  to  English  scholars  ;  but  I  may  at  least 
express  the  hope  that  I  have  not  been  entirely  unsuccessful 
in  conveying  in  the  English  language  something  of  the 
brilliance  and  charm  of  style  which  the  author's  German 
readers  recognize  and  admire  in  his  own.     In  many  of  the 


Vlll  TRANSLATOR'S   PREFACE. 

passages  quoted  by  Professor  Gomperz  from  Plato  and 
Thucydides  I  have  availed  myself  of  the  renderings  by  the 
late  Dr.  Jovvett,  now  the  property  of  Balliol  College,  Oxford, 
and  I  am  glad  to  acknowledge  the  benefit  which  my  work 
has  derived  from  them. 

The  second  volume  of  "  Greek  Thinkers,"  dealing  mainly 
with  Socrates  and  Plato,  will,  it  is  hoped,  be  published  in 
the  course  of  this  year ;  and  since,  to  my  regret,  I  am  not 
at  leisure  to  continue  the  work  myself,  steps  have  already 
been  taken  to  find  a  competent  translator.  The  third 
volume  of  the  German  edition  will  include  the  author's 
indexes,  but  I  have  thought  it  advisable  to  supply  the 
present  instalment  of  the  work  with  a  provisional  index 
of  subjects  and  names,  I  should  add  that,  in  translating 
the  notes  and  additions  to  this  volume,  I  have,  with  the 
author's  sanction,  introduced  sundry  technical  changes, 
chiefly  in  reference  to  English  books  or  to  foreign  works  in 
English  editions.  In  the  instance  of  Zeller's  PhilosopJiie 
der  GriecJien,  I  have  made  an  exception  to  this  practice. 
Professor  Gomperz  quotes  uniformly  from  the  last  German 
edition  of  that  work,  which  has  been  considerably  modified 
and  enlarged  since  the  English  rendering  was  effected. 

L.  M. 


London, 

Jan.  I,  1901. 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE. 


My  design  in  the  present  undertaking  is  to  compose  a 
comprehensive  picture  of  the  department  of  knowledge  in 
which,  during  several  decades  past,  I  have  been  at  pains 
to  increase  the  material  and  to  sift  the  problems.  The 
work,  which  summarizes  the  labours  of  a  lifetime,  will  be 
complete  in  three  volumes,  and  will,  it  is  hoped,  be 
accessible  to  wide  circles  of  cultivated  readers.  The  point 
of  view  from  which  I  have  written  is  not  that  of  any  one- 
sided and  exclusive  school.  I  endeavour  to  do  equal 
justice  to  the  different  tendencies  of  ancient  thought,  every 
one  of  which  has  contributed  its  part  to  the  complete 
structure  of  modern  intellectual  civilization,  to  consider 
them  all  impartially,  and  to  judge  them  fairly.  The 
historical  relief  in  which  the  narrative  is  set  will  not  be 
unduly  contracted,  and  its  subjective  features  will  be  con- 
fined to  emphasizing  what  is  essential  as  sharply  as  possible, 
and  to  sundering  as  thoroughly  as  possible  what  is  enduring 
and  significant  from  what  is  indifferent  and  transient. 
Portions  of  the  story  of  religion,  of  literature,  and  of  the 
special  sciences,  indispensable  to  an  understanding  of 
the  speculative  movement,  its  causes  and  effects,  will  be 
incorporated  in  the  work.  The  boundaries  dividing  these 
provinces  appear  to  me  in  all  cases  to  be  floating.  The 
ideal  I  have  in  view  could  only  completely  be  realized  in 
an  exhaustive  universal  history  of  the  mind  of  antiquity. 
When  so  monumental  an  undertaking  has  been  successfully 


X  AUTHOR'S  PREFACE. 

effected  I  shall  be  the  first  to  admit  that  the  present  far 
more  modest  attempt  is  superseded  and  antiquated. 

The  second  volume  and  the  third  or  concluding  volume 
will  comprise  the  remaining  six  books,  entitled  respectively, 
(4)  "Socrates  and  the  Socratics,"  (5)  "Plato  and  the 
Academy,"  (6)  "Aristotle  and  his  Successors,"  (7)  "The 
Older  Stoa,"  (8)  "The  Garden  of  Epicurus,"  and  (9) 
"  Mystics,  Sceptics,  and  Syncretists."  In  order  not 
unduly  to  increase  the  compass  of  the  work,  the  evidence 
of  authorities  has  had  to  be  reduced  to  the  smallest 
dimensions,  and,  with  regard  to  references  to  the  later 
literature  of  the  subject,  economy  has  had  to  be  practised 
in  all  cases  excepting  those  where  my  own  exposition  may 
claim  the  greatest  originality  and  those,  again,  where  it 
can  claim  the  least.  In  the  latter  instance  the  obligation 
has  arisen  of  acknowledging  my  close  dependence  on  pre- 
decessors, and,  in  the  former,  of  advancing  grounds  for 
my  radical  divergence  from  traditional  views. 

Finally,  I  may  be  permitted,  not  to  palliate,  but  to 
apologize  for,  the  shortcomings  of  my  work  in  the  phrase 
employed  in  a  letter  of  Gustave  Flaubert  to  Georges  Sand  : 
"Je  fais  tout  ce  que  je  peux  continuellement  pour  elargir 
ma  cervelle,  et  je  travaille  dans  la  sincerite  de  mon  cceur ; 
le  reste  ne  depend  pas  de  moi." 

TH.   GOMPERZ. 
Vienna. 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK   I. 

THE  BEGINNINGS. 


INTRODUCTION. 


§1      

I'AGE 

3 

§6 

§2               

7 

§7 

§3          

II 

§8 

§4           

14 

§9 

§5 

15 

PACE 
24 
31 

34 
37 


§1 
§2 
§3 


CHAPTER    I. 
OLD    IONIAN    NATURE-PHILOSOPHERS. 


43 
46 
48 


§4 
§5 


56 
59 


§1 

§2 


CHAPTER   II. 

ORPHIC    SYSTEMS   OK  COSMOGONY. 

80  I  §3  

84   I 


90 


XI 1  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   III. 
PYTHAGORAS    AND   HIS   DISCIPLES. 

I'AGE  I'ACE 

§  I  99   i   §3  no 

§  2  102    ; 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE   PYTHAGOREAN   DOCTRINE. 

§  I  112    I   §  2  117 

CHAPTER   V. 

ORPHIC    AND   PYTHAGOREAN   DOCTRINES   OF  THE   SOUL. 

§  I  123   !    §4  138 

§2  128       §5  147 

§3  130 


BOOK   II. 

FROM  METAPHYSICS   TO   POSITIVE  SCIENCE. 

CHAPTER   I. 

X  E  N  O  P  H  A  N  E  S. 

§  I  15s   1   §3  161 

§2  158   i 

CHAPTER   II. 

PARMENIDES. 

§  I  16";   I   §4  176 

§2  166      §5  179 

§3  170   i 


CONTENTS. 


XIU 


§1 

§2 


CHAPTER   HI. 

THE   DISCIPLES   OF   PARMENIDES. 


191 


§3 

§4 


PAGE 
194 
199 


§1 

§2 


CHAPTER   IV. 
ANAXAGORAS. 


20S 
213 


§3 
§4 


219 
222 


§1 
§2 
§3 
§4 


CHAPTER  V. 

EMPEDOCLES. 

...  227  §  5 

...  229  I  §  6 

-  234  j  §7 

...  236  I  §8 


241 

243 
246 
252 


§2 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE  HISTORIANS. 

■••  255  I  §3 
...  258   §4 


262 
269 


BOOK   III. 
THE  AGE   OF  ENLIGHTENMENT. 


§1 

§2 

§3 
§4 


CHAPTER    I. 
THE   PHYSICIANS. 


275 
279 
282 
286 


§5 
§6 
§7 


295 
303 


XIV 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   II. 
THE    ATOMISTS. 


§1      

PAGE 

3^6 

§6          

PAGE 
...        348 

§2              

319 

§7          

•••    353 

§3         

327 

§8          

••■    356 

§4          

332 

§9          

•••    363 

§5          

344 

§10        

...     366 

§1 

§2 


CHAPTER   HI. 
THE   ECLECTIC   PHILOSOPHERS   OF   NATURE. 

370      §3  

377 


578 


CHAPTER   IV. 
THE   BEGINNINGS   OF   MENTAL  AND   MORAL   SCIENCE. 


§1 
§2 
§3 
§4 


§1 

§2 
§3 


§1 
§2 
§3 
§4 


381 

384 

387 

390 

§5 
§6 

§7 
§8 

CHAPTER 

V. 

THE    SOPHISTS. 

412      §4 

4'5      §5 

422      §6 

CHAPTER 

VI. 

PROTAGORAS   OF 

ABDERA 

438 

441 

445 

448 

§5 
§6 
§7 
§8 

394 
401 

405 
407 


425 
430 

434 


450 
462 
466 
471 


BOOK   I.  , 

THE   BEGINNINGS. 

"  To  one  small  people  ...  it  was  given  to  create  the  principle 
of  Progress.  That  people  was  the  Greek.  Except  the  blind  forces  of 
Nature,  nothing  moves  in  this  world  which  is  not  Greek  in  its 
origin," — Sir  Henry  Sumner  Maine. 


GREEK     THINKERS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

i^LL  beginnings  are  obscure,  whether  owing  to  their 
minuteness  or  their  apparent  insignificance.  Where  they  do 
not  escape  perception,  they  are  liable  to  elude  observation. 
The  sources  of  history,  too,  can  only  be  tracked  at  a 
foot-pace.  They  must  be  followed  to  their  fount,  like  the 
current  of  a  stream  which  springs  in  a  mountain  fastness. 
Such  steps  or  paces  are  called  ■  inferences'^  They  are  of 
two  kinds,  according  as  they  proceed  from  causes  or 
from  effects.  In  the  second  case,  wc  try  to  infer  the 
existence  and  the  nature  of  causes  from  the  existence 
and  the  nature  of  effects.  Inferences  of  that  type  are 
indispensable,  but  frequently  fallacious.  For  though  every 
cause,  taken  by  itself,  produces  the  same  invariable  effect, 
yet  the  converse  proposition  does  not  by  any  means 
hold  good.  Each  effect  is  not  invariably  the  product  of 
one  and  the  same  cause.  The  condition  known  as  "  plurality 
of  causes  "  plays  an  important  part  in  the  intellectual  no 
less  than  in  the  physical  universe.  The  contrary  process 
yields  more  trustworthy  results.  It  starts  from  the  causes, 
from  the  series  of  great  and  tangible  factors,  plainly 
manifest  or  readily  to  be  found,  which  must  have  in- 
fluenced the  events  to  be  accounted  for,  and  in  which 
the  degree  of  such  influence  is  the  sole  object  of  doubt. 
In  the  present  instance,  where  we  arc  dealing  with  the 
higher  intellectual  life  of  a  nation,  the  first  place  is 
VOL  I.  li  2 


4  GREEK    THINKERS. 

claimed  by  its  geographical  conditions  and  the  peculiar 
character  of  its  homes. 

Hellas  is  a  sea-girt  mountain-land.  The  poverty  of  her 
soil  corresponds  to  the  narrowness  of  her  river-valleys. 
And  here  we  find  the  first  clue  to  some  of  the  essential 
features  of  Hellenic  evolution  proper.  It  is  clear,  for 
instance,  that  a  permanent  home  and  a  steady  and  manifold 
care  and  attention  were  offered  to  any  seeds  of  civilization 
which  might  be  deposited  in  her  soil.  Her  mountain- 
barriers  served  her  in  the  office  of  stone  walls,  breaking  the 
force  of  the  storm  of  conquest  which  sweeps  unchecked 
across  the  plains.  Each  hilly  canton  was  a  potential  seat 
of  culture.  Each  could  develop  a  separate  type  of  that 
strongly  marked  individualism,  which  was  ultimately  to 
prove  so  favourable  to  the  rich  and  many-sided  civilization 
of  Greece,  so  fatal  to  the  political  concentration  of  her 
powers.  The  country  was  full  of  piquant  contrasts.  Her 
Arcadia — an  inland  canton,  sunk  in  torpid  provincialism — 
was  matched  at  the  opposite  extreme  by  the  extent  and  cur- 
vature of  the  coast.  Her  sea-board  was  larger  than  Spain's, 
her  mainland  smaller  than  Portugal's.  Other  conditions, 
too,  fostered  this  variety  of  natural  gifts.  The  most  diverse 
trades  and  professions  were  practised  in  the  closest 
proximity.  Seamen  and  shepherds,  hunters  and  husband- 
men, flourished  side  by  side,  and  the  fusion  of  their 
families  produced  in  ater  generations  a  sum  of  talents 
and  aptitudes  complementary  to  each  other.  Again,  the 
good  fairies  who  presided  at  the  birth  of  Greece  could 
have  laid  no  more  salutary  blessing  in  her  cradle  than  the 
"poverty  which  was  ever  her  familiar  friend."  It  worked 
powerfully  in  three  ways  for  the  advancement  of  her 
civilization.  It  acted  as  a  spur  to  compel  her  to  exert  all 
her  powers  ;  it  served  as  a  further  defence  against  invasion, 
for  the  comparatively  poor  country  must  have  seemed  but 
indifferent  booty — a  fact  noted  in  connection  with  Attica 
by  the  most  philosophical  historian  of  antiquity  ;  and  last, 
and  chiefly,  it  lent  a  forcible  impulse  to  commerce, 
navigation,  emigration,  and  the  foundation  of  colonies. 

The  bays  that  offer  the  best  harbourage  on  the  Greek 


COUNTRY  AND    COLONIES.  5 

peninsula  open  towards  the  east,  and  the  islands  and 
islets,  with  which  that  region  is  thickly  sown,  afford,  as  it 
were,  a  series  of  stepping-stones  to  the  ancient  seats  of 
Asiatic  civilization.  Greece  may  be  said  to  look  east  and 
south.  Her  back  is  turned  to  the  north  and  west,  with 
their  semi-barbaric  conditions.  Another  circumstance  of 
quite  exceptional  good  fortune  may  be  ranged  with  these 
natural  advantages.  There  was  Greece  in  her  infancy  on 
the  one  side,  and  the  immemorial  civilizations  on  the 
other :  who  was  to  ply  between  them  ?  The  link  was 
found— as  it  were  by  deliberate  selection — in  those  hardy 
adventurers  of  the  sea,  the  merchant-people  of  Phoenicia, 
a  nation  politically  of  no  account,  but  full  of  daring  and 
eager  for  gain.  Thus  it  happened  that  the  Greeks  acquired 
the  elements  of  culture  from  Babylon  and  Egypt  without 
paying  the  forfeit  of  independence.  The  benefits  of  this 
ordinance  are  obvious.  The  favoured  country  enjoyed  a 
steadier  rate  of  progress,  a  more  unbroken  evolution,  a 
comparative  immunity  from  the  sacrifice  of  her  national 
resources.  And  if  further  proof  be  required,  take  the  fate 
of  the  Celts  and  Germans,  whom  Rome  enslaved  at  the 
moment  that  she  civilized  ;  or  take  the  sad  lot  of  the 
savage  tribes  of  to-day,  who  receive  the  blessing  of 
civilization  at  the  hands  of  almighty  Europe,  and  wear  it 
too  often  as  a  curse. 

Still,  the  determining  influence  in  the  intellectual  life  of 
Greece  must  be  sought  in  her  colonial  system.  Colonies 
were  founded  at  all  times,  and  under  every  form  of  govern- 
ment. The  Monarchy,  a  period  of  perpetual  conflict,  fre- 
quently witnessed  the  spectacle  of  settled  inhabitants  giving 
way  to  immigrating  tribes,  and  seeking  a  new  home  beyond 
the  seas.  The  Oligarchy,  which  rested  entirely  on  the 
permanent  alliance  between  noble  birth  and  territorial 
possession,  was  often  constrained  to  expel  the  "  pauvrc 
gentilhomme,"  the  type  and  symbol  of  disorder,  and  to 
furnish  him  with  fresh  estates  in  foreign  parts,  whither  he 
would  speedily  be  followed  by  further  victims  of  the  incessant 
party  strife  Meantime,  the  growth  of  the  maritime  trade 
of  Greece,  the  flourishing  condition  of  her  industries,  and 


6  GREEK   THINKERS. 

her  increasing  population,  soon  made  it  necessary  to 
establish  fixed  commercial  stations,  an  uninterrupted 
supply  of  raw  material,  and  safe  channels  for  the  importa- 
tion of  food.  The  same  outlets  were  utilized,  chiefly 
under  the  Democracy,  to  relieve  the  indigent  poor  and  to 
draft  off  the  surplus  population.  Thus,  at  an  early  period, 
there  arose  that  vast  circle  of  Greek  plantations  which 
stretched  from  the  homes  of  the  Cossacks  on  the  Don  to 
the  oases  of  the  Sahara,  and  from  the  eastern  shore  of 
the  Black  Sea  to  the  coast-line  of  Spain.  Great  Greece 
and  Greater  Greece, — if  the  first  name  belong  to  the 
Hellenic  portion  of  Southern  Italy,  the  second  might 
well  be  given  to  the  sum  of  these  settlements  outside. 
The  mere  number  and  diversity  of  the  colonies  practically 
ensured  the  prospect  that  any  seeds  of  civilization  would 
happen  on  suitable  soil,  and  this  prospect  was  widened 
and  brightened  to  an  incalculable  degree  by  the  nature 
of  the  settlements  and  the  manner  of  their  founda- 
tion. Their  sites  were  selected  at  those  points  of  the 
coast  which  offered  the  best  facilities  for  successful  com- 
mercial enterprise.  The  emigrants  themselves  were  chiefly 
young  men  of  a  hardy  and  courageous  disposition,  who 
would  bequeath  their  superior  qualities  to  their  numerous 
issue.  Men  of  duller  parts,  who  lived  by  rule  and  rote, 
were  not  likely  to  turn  their  backs  on  their  homes  except 
under  stress  of  necessity.  Again,  though  a  single  city- 
state  took  the  lead  in  the  foundation  of  each  colony,  it 
would  frequently  be  reinforced  by  a  considerable  foreign 
contingent,  and  this  cross-breeding  of  Hellenic  tribes  would 
be  further  extended  by  an  admixture  of  non-Hellenic 
blood,  owing  to  the  preponderance  of  the  men  over  the 
women  among  the  original  emigrants.  Thus,  every  colony 
served  the  purpose  of  experiment.  Greek  and  non- Greek 
racial  elements  were  mixed  in  varying  proportions,  and 
the  test  was  applied  to  their  resulting  powers  of  resistance 
and  endurance.  Local  customs,  tribal  superstitions,  and 
national  prejudices  swiftly  disappeared  before  the  better 
sense  of  the  settlers.  Contact  with  foreign  civilizations, 
however  imperfectly  developed,  could  not  but  enlarge  their 


COLONIAL   LIFE.  7 

mental  horizon  to  a  very  appreciable  degree.  The  average 
of  capacity  rose  by  leaps  and  bounds,  and  the  average  of 
intellect  was  heightened  by  its  constant  engagement  in 
new  and  difficult  tasks.  Merit  counted  for  more  than 
descent.  A  man  there  was  a  man ;  good  work  could 
command  a  good  wage,  and  poor  work  meant  a  hard  bed 
and  indifferent  protection.  The  whole  system  of  economic, 
political,  and  social  life  cried  out  to  be  reorganized  and 
reformed,  and  in  these  circumstances  the  force  of  mere 
tradition  and  the  reign  of  unintelligent  routine  were 
involved  in  rapid  decline.  True,  some  of  the  settlements 
succumbed  to  the  attacks  of  hostile  residents ;  others, 
again,  were  so  far  outnumbered  by  the  natives  that  their 
individuality  was  gradually  absorbed.  But  from  first  to 
last  the  communication  of  the  colonies  with  their  mother- 
city  and  mother-country — a  communication  fostered  by 
religious  ties  and  frequently  strengthened  by  later  arrivals 
— was  sufficiently  intimate  to  preserve  in  all  its  parts  the 
reciprocal  benefits  which  proved  so  eminently  fruitful. 
Greece  found  in  her  colonies  the  great  playground  of  her 
intellect.  There  she  proved  her  talents  in  every  variety 
of  circumstances,  and  there  she  was  able  to  train  them  to 
the  height  of  their  latent  powers.  Her  colonial  life  retained 
for  centuries  its  fresh  and  buoyant  spirit.  The  daughter- 
cities  in  most  respects  outstripped  their  mother  in  the  race. 
To  them  can  be  traced  nearly  all  the  great  innovations, 
and  the  time  was  to  come  when  they  would  steep  them- 
selves in  intellectual  pursuits  as  well,  when  the  riddles  of 
the  world  and  of  human  life  were  to  find  a  permanent 
home  and  enduring  curiosity  in  their  midst. 

2.  There  is  a  period  in  Greek  history  which  bears  a 
most  striking  resemblance  to  the  close  of  our  own  Middle 
Ages,  when  the  repetition  of  similar  causes  produced 
similar  effects. 

On  the  threshold  of  modern  Europe  stands  the  era  of 
the  great  discoverers,  and  the  geographical  limits  of  the 
Greek  horizon  at  this  time  were  likewise  wonderfully 
extended.  On  the  far  east  and  west  of  the  world,  as  it 
was    then    known,    the   outline   emerged    from    the    mist. 


8  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Precise  and  definite  knowledge  replaced  the  obscurity  of 
legend.  Shortly  after  800  B.C.,  the  eastern  shore  of  the 
Black  Sea  began  to  be  colonized  by  Milesians  ;  Sinope 
was  founded  in  785,  and  Trapezunt  about  thirty  years 
later.  Soon  after  the  middle  of  the  same  century,  Euboea 
and  Corinth  sent  out  the  first  Greek  settlers  to  Sicily, 
where  Syracuse  was  founded  in  734  B.C.,  and  before  the 
century's  end  the  ambition  and  enterprise  of  Miletus  had 
taken  fast  foothold  at  the  mouths  of  the  Nile.  Three 
conclusions  are  involved  in  the  fact  of  this  impulse  to 
expansion.  It  points  to  a  rapid  growth  of  population  on 
the  Greek  peninsula  and  in  the  older  colonies.  It  presumes 
a  considerable  development  of  Greek  industry  and  com- 
merce ;  and,  finally,  it  serves  to  measure  the  progress  in 
ship-building  and  in  kindred  arts.  Take  navigation,  for 
instance.  Where  vessels  formerly  had  hugged  the  shore, 
and  had  not  ventured  in  deep  waters,  now  they  boldly 
crossed  the  sea.  The  mercantile  marine  was  protected  by 
men-of-war.  Seaworthy  battleships  came  into  use  with 
raised  decks  and  three  rows  of  oars,  the  first  of  them  being 
built  for  the  Samians  in  705  B.C.  Naval  engagements 
were  fought  as  early  as  664  B.C.,  so  that  the  sea  acquired 
the  utmost  significance  in  the  civilization  of  Hellas  for 
the  commerce  of  peace  and  war.  At  the  same  time,  the 
progress  of  industry  was  fostered  by  a  notable  innovation. 
A  current  coinage  was  created.  The  *'  bullocks  "  of  hoary 
antiquity  and  the  copper  "kettles"  and  "tripods"  of  a 
later  date  successively  passed  into  desuetude,  and  the 
precious  metals  replaced  these  rougher  makeshifts  as 
measures  of  value  and  tokens  of  exchange.  Babylonian 
and  Egyptian  merchants  had  long  since  familiarized  the 
market  with  silver  and  gold  in  the  form  of  bars  and  rings, 
and  the  Babylonians  had  even  introduced  the  official  stamp 
as  a  guarantee  of  standard  and  weight.  A  convenient 
shape  was  now  added  to  the  qualities  of  worth  and  dura- 
bility which  make  gold  and  silver  the  most  practical 
symbols  of  exchange,  and  the  metals  were  coined  for 
current  use.  This  invention,  borrowed  from  Lydia  about 
700  B.C.  by  the  Phocaeans  of  Ionia,  conferred  remarkable 


SOCIAL    CHANGES.  9 

benefits  on  commerce.  It  facilitated  intercourse  and 
extended  its  bounds,  and  its  effects  may  be  compared  with 
those  of  the  bill  of  exchange,  introduced  in  Europe  by 
Jewish  and  Lombardy  merchants  at  the  close  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  Similar,  if  not  greater,  in  effect  was  the  change 
in  the  methods  of  warfare.  The  old  exclusive  service  of 
the  cavalry,  which  had  flourished  in  the  dearth  of  pastoral 
and  corn-land  as  the  privilege  of  wealthy  landowners,  was 
now  reinforced  by  the  hoplitcs,  or  heavy-armed  infantry, 
who  far  exceeded  the  cavalry  in  numbers.  The  change  was 
analogous — and  its  consequences  were  equal  in  importance 
— to  that  which  enabled  the  armed  peasantry  of  Switzer- 
land to  disperse  the  chivalry  of  Burgundy  and  Austria. 
New  orders  of  the  population  achieved  prosperity  and 
culture,  and  were  filled  with  a  strong  sense  of  self-esteem. 
A  sturdy  middle  class  asserted  itself  by  the  side  of  the 
old  squirearchy,  and  bore  with  increasing  impatience 
the  yoke  of  the  masterful  nobles.  But  here,  as  elsewhere, 
the  contradiction  between  actual  conditions  of  strength 
and  legal  dues  of  prerogative  became  the  cause  of  civil 
strife.  A  battle  of  classes  broke  out.  It  spread  to  the 
peasants,  where  persistent  ill-usage  and  by  no  means 
infrequent  serfdom  had  sown  the  seeds  of  revolt,  and  out 
of  the  rents  and  ruins  of  society  there  was  hatched  a  brood 
of  usurpers,  who  partly  destroyed  and  partly  set  aside  the 
existing  order  of  things.  They  constructed  in  its  place  a 
form  of  government  which,  though  commonly  short-lived, 
was  not  without  notable  results.  The  Orthagoridcs,  the 
Cypselides,  the  Pisistratides,  a  Polycrates,  and  many 
another,  may  be  compared  with  the  Italian  tyrants  of  the 
late  Middle  Ages — the  Medici,  the  Sforza,  or  the  Visconti 
— precisely  as  the  party  feuds  of  the  one  epoch  recall  in 
the  other  the  conflict  between  the  lords  and  the  guilds. 
The  obscure  origin  and  questionable  title  of  these  newly 
founded  dynasties  were  discreetly  veiled  in  the  glitter  of 
warlike  undertakings,  of  alliances  with  foreign  potentates, 
public  works  on  a  lavish  scale,  splendid  buildings,  and 
munificent  benefactions,  combined  with  an  enhanced  regard 
for    the    safety    of   the    national    sanctuaries   and    for   the 


lO  GREEK   THINKERS. 

encouragement  of  the  fine  arts.  But  we  must  look  deeper  for 
the  most  lasting  result  of  this  entr'acte  in  history.  It  tran- 
quillized party  feeling  ;  it  overthrew  the  rule  of  the  nobles 
without  breaking  the  foundations  of  social  welfare ;  it 
poured  new  wine  in  the  old  vessels,  revealing  unsuspected 
possibilities  in  the  extant  forms  of  the  constitution.  The 
"  tyranny  "  served  as  a  bridge  to  the  system  of  democracy, 
first  in  a  moderate,  and  at  last  in  its  fully  developed  shape. 
Meantime,  the  stream  of  intellectual  culture  found 
broader  and  deeper  channels.  The  ballads  of  the  heroes, 
which  had  been  sung  for  centuries  in  the  halls  of  Ionian 
nobles  to  the  accompaniment  of  the  lyre,  slowly  fell  into 
desuetude.  New  forms  of  poetry  began  to  emerge,  and 
with  them,  in  some  instances,  the  poet's  personality  emerged 
from  the  material  of  his  song.  Subjective  poetry  came 
into  existence,  as  was  bound  to  happen,  when,  as  now, 
men  escaped  in  ever-increasing  numbers  from  the  groove 
of  hereditary  conventions.  The  State  was  involved  in 
change  and  vicissitude,  society  was  governed  by  uncertain 
conditions,  and  individual  life  accordingly  acquired  a  more 
adventurous  complexion.  Men's  talents  would  be  more 
sharply  defined,  their  independent  activity  stimulated,  their 
self-reliance  encouraged.  In  civic  and  party  business  a 
man  would  play  his  own  part,  advising  and  blaming  as 
counsellor  or  critic,  and  boldly  giving  vent  among  his  fellows 
to  his  sentiments  of  expectation  or  disappointment,  his  joy, 
his  sorrow,  his  anger,  and  his  scorn.  He  became  a  unit 
in  society,  self-made  for  the  most  part,  and  entirely  self- 
dependent,  and  would  deem  his  private  concerns  of 
sufficient  importance  to  display  them  in  the  light  of 
publicity.  He  poured  out  his  heart  to  his  fellow-citizens, 
making  them  the  arbiters  in  his  love-suits  and  law-suits, 
and  appealing  to  their  sympathy  in  the  injuries  he  suffered, 
the  successes  he  achieved,  the  pleasures  he  enjoyed.  A 
new  spirit,  too,  was  breathed  in  the  older  poetical  forms. 
Myth  and  legend  were  refashioned  by  the  masters  of  choric 
song  in  differing,  if  not  in  contradictory,  modes.  The 
didactic  poets  still  aimed  at  system,  order,  and  harmony 
in  their  treatment  of  the  material,  but  side  by  side  with 


TRAVEL   AND    OBSERVATION.  ii 

those  endeavours  a  manifold  diversity  was  to  be  remarked, 
and  a  licence  in  criticism,  expressing  itself  in  a  prejudice 
or  preference  in  respect  to  this  or  that  hero  or  heroine  of 
holy  tradition.  Thus,  the  neutral  tints  of  the  background 
were  ever  more  and  more  relieved  by  strong,  self-conscious 
figures  standing  out  from  the  uniform  mass.  Habits  of 
free-will  and  feeling  were  created,  and  with  them  there 
grew  the  faculty  of  independent  thought,  which  was 
constantly  engaged  and  exercised  in  wider  fields  of 
speculation. 

3.  The  Greeks  were  naturally  keen-sighted.  The  faith- 
ful representation  of  sensible  objects  and  occurrences  con- 
stitutes one  of  the  chief  charms  of  the  Homeric  poems,  and 
the  imitation  of  figures  and  gestures  by  a  hand  that 
waxed  in  cunning  now  began  to  succeed  to  the  arts  of 
language  and  speech.  Greece  became  the  apprentice  of 
older  civilized  countries,  turning  to  Egypt  above  all  for 
the  paramount  example  of  artistic  instinct,  natural  joy,  and 
engaging  humour.  But  even  in  the  limited  sphere  of  the 
observation  of  men's  ways  and  manners,  fresh  material 
was  constantly  collected.  As  travelling  grew  easier,  its 
occasions  would  be  multiplied.  Not  merely  the  merchant, 
ever  intent  on  new  gain,  but  the  fugitive  murderer,  the 
exiled  loser  in  the  civil  strife,  the  restless  emigrant  wander- 
ing on  the  face  of  the  earth,  the  adventurer  whose  spear 
was  at  the  service  of  the  highest  bidder,  who  would  eat 
the  bread  of  an  Assyrian  monarch  to-day  and  to-morrow 
would  pour  down  his  burning  throat  the  barley-water  of 
Egypt,  who  was  equally  at  home  in  the  fruit-laden  valley 
of  the  Euphrates  and  in  the  sands  of  the  Nubian  desert, — 
all  of  these  would  add  to  the  sum  of  knowledge  about 
places,  peoples,  and  mankind.  The  frequent  meeting  or 
regular  congregation  in  certain  centres  of  Greeks  of  all 
cities  and  tribes  served  the  purpose  of  huge  reservoirs,  in 
which  the  observations  of  individuals  and  the  reports  they 
made  to  their  fellow-townsmen  were  collected  and  stored. 
The  shrine  of  the  oracle  at  Delphi  was  a  chief  example 
of  the  first,  while  the  second  condition  was  fulfilled  by  the 
recurring    festivals   of  the   Games,  among  which   those  at 


12  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Olympia  held  the  foremost  rank.  The  sanctuary  at  Delphi, 
sacred  to  Pythian  Apollo,  was  situated  in  the  shadow  of 
steep,  beetling  crags.  Thither  would  come,  and  there 
would  meet,  an  endless  line  of  pilgrims  from  all  parts  of 
Greece  and  her  colonies — private  citizens,  representatives 
of  whole  states,  and,  since  the  middle  of  the  seventh 
century  at  least,  occasional  envoys  from  foreign  courts. 
They  all  came  to  consult  the  god  ;  but  the  answers  they 
received  were  mostly  the  result  of  the  priest's  ingenious 
manipulation  of  the  stock  of  useful  knowledge  deposited 
by  former  clients.  And  few  indeed  can  have  departed 
from  that  romantic  mountain  glen  without  finding  their 
imagination  quickened  and  their  experience  augmented  by 
contact  with  their  companions  on  the  road.  The  Games 
which  we  have  mentioned  were  celebrated  in  the  broad 
river-valley  of  the  Alpheius,  and  the  attractiveness  of  that 
brilliant  spectacle  increased  with  each  generation.  The 
programme  was  constantly  extended  by  the  inclusion  of 
new  kinds  of  competitions,  and  the  spectators,  who  at  first 
were  drawn  merely  from  the  surrounding  country,  gradually 
began  to  arrive — as  is  shown  by  the  winners'  lists,  extant 
since  'j'j^  B.C. — from  all  points  in  the  circumference  of  the 
wide  Hellenic  world.  Nor  would  their  intercourse  be 
confined  to  the  exchange  of  news  and  information.  Men 
would  take  one  another's  measure  ;  opinions  would  be 
freely  canvassed  ;  the  merits  of  the  different  institutions  in 
that  land  of  many  subdivisions — their  customs,  habits, 
and  beliefs — would  form  topics  of  general  discussion. 
Comparison  engendered  judgment,  and  judgment  brought 
reflection  in  its  train  to  bear  on  the  causes  of  the  differ- 
ences and  on  the  permanent  element  in  change.  It 
induced,  that  is  to  say,  an  inquiry  for  the  common  canons 
which  obtained  in  the  commerce  and  dogma  of  daily  life. 
The  observation  of  common  things,  growing  keener  and 
richer  by  experience,  led  to  comparative  discussion  and 
estimation,  and,  finally,  to  reflective  criticism.  Many  a 
proud  stream  was  nourished  by  that  source.  To  it  we 
refer  sententious  poetry,  the  invention  of  types  of  human 
character,    and    the   proverbial    wisdom    which    thoughtful 


THE   ART   OF    WRITING.  1 3 

citizens  and  philosophic  statesmen    have   sown    broadcast 
in  the  world. 

The  art  of  writing,  the  main  vehicle  for  the  exchange 
of  thought,  helped  to  distribute  the  fresh  acquisitions  of 
knowledge.     Writing,  it  is  true,  was  no  novelty  in  Greece. 
When   we   read  in  the   Homeric  poems  of  the   intimate 
intercourse  with  Phoenicia,  we  readily  conceive   that  the 
sharp-witted  Greek  would  have  borrowed  that  wonderful 
aid  to  the  preservation  and  communication  of  thought  from 
the  Canaanitish  dealers,  for  the  customer  must  often  have 
surprised  the  merchant  making  entries  in  his  account-book. 
Nay,  the  art  of  writing  would  appear  to  have  been  familiar, 
to  some  of  the  Greeks  at  least,  even  before  that  date.     It 
is  no  more  possible  that  the  syllabic  writing  on  the  recently 
discovered  Cypric  monuments,  with  its  awkward  and  clumsy 
devices,  could  have  been  later  than  the  use  of  the  simple 
Semitic  letters,  than  that  the  invention  of  the  battle-axe 
could  have  followed  that  of  the  musket.     All   that   was 
wanted  was  a  convenient   and    easily  fashioned  material. 
The    want    took    some    time    to    supply.      The     remedy 
was  not  found  till  soon  after  660  B.C.,  when  Greek  trade 
with    Egypt    under    Psammetich    I.    received    a   notable 
impulse.      Then    a  writing-material  of  a  kind  which  can 
hardly  be  improved  was  afforded  by  the  pulp  of  the  papyrus 
shrub,  split  into  slender  and  flexible  strips.     Yrom.  city  to 
city,  from  land  to  land,  from  century  to  centur>',  the  sheets 
of   written    symbols    now  began   to    fly.     The    circulation 
of   thought    was    accelerated,    the    commerce    of    intellect 
enlarged,   and  the  continuity  of  culture  guaranteed,  in   a 
degree  which  can  well-nigh  be  compared  with  that  which 
marked  the  invention  of  the  printing-press  at  the  dawn  of 
modern  hi.story.     To  the  oral  delivery  of  poems,  designed 
to  captivate  the  hearer,  there  was  presently  to  be   added 
their  silent  appeal  to  the  solitary  enjoyment  of  the  reader, 
who  could  weigh,  compare,  and  discriminate  to  the  toj)  of 
his  critical   bent.      Yet  a  little  while,    and    literary    com- 
munication was    to   break  the  last  of   its  bonds,    and   the 
beginnings  of   prose    composition    were    to   supersede  the 
era  of  metric  language. 


14  GREEK   THINKERS. 

4.  The  west  coast  of  Asia  Minor  is  the  cradle  of  the 
intellectual  civilization  of  Greece.  Its  line  stretches  from 
north  to  south,  but  the  heart  of  the  movement  must  be 
sought  in  the  country  enclosing  the  centre  of  the  line,  and 
in  the  adjacent  islands.  There  nature  poured  her  gifts 
with  lavish  profusion,  and  those  on  whom  they  fell 
belonged  to  the  Ionian  tribe,  at  all  times  the  most  talented 
among  Hellenes.  The  birthplace  of  the  lonians  is  obscure. 
We  know  that  their  blood  was  mixed  with  elements  from 
central  Greece,  if,  indeed,  they  were  not  a  mere  product 
of  such  fusion,  and  their  diverse  origin  is  doubtless  mainly 
accountable  for  the  complexity  of  their  natural  gifts.  At 
least,  it  was  not  till  they  were  settled  in  their  new  Asiatic 
home  that  their  individuality  reached  its  full  powers.  As 
bold  seafarers  and  energetic  traders,  they  enjoyed  every 
benefit  of  the  keen  and  fertilizing  influence  to  be  derived 
from  intercourse  with  foreign  nations  in  a  more  advanced 
state  of  civilization.  They  had  the  further  advantage  of 
intermarrying  with  other  fine  races,  such  as  the  Carians 
and  Phcenicians,  a  fact  which  indisputably  increased  their 
original  diversity  of  talent.  The  lonians  were  the  furthest 
removed  of  all  Greeks  from  that  fatal  stagnation  to 
which  dwellers  in  isolated  countries  succumb  so  readily. 
It  must  be  added  that  they  lacked  the  sense  of  security 
which  friendly  mountain-barriers  and  an  infertile  soil 
bestow.  The  proximity  of  civilized  nations,  highly  de- 
veloped and  united  in  a  State,  was  as  prejudicial  to 
the  political  independence  of  the  lonians  as  it  was  bene- 
ficial to  their  intellectual  progress.  The  yoke  of  foreign 
dominion  which  was  laid  on  one  part  of  the  people,  the 
compulsory  exile  in  which  another  part  was  driven,  the 
slow  but  sure  corrosion  of  its  manhood  by  the  inroad  of 
Oriental  luxury, — these  were  among  the  consequences  of 
the  devastating  attacks  by  barbarians  from  Cimmeria, 
followed  by  the  victories  of  the  Lydians  and  Persians. 
The  nett  result  of  this  cross-series  of  good  influences  and 
bad  was  the  rapid  rise  and  swift  decline  of  a  period  of 
prosperity.  The  ripe  fruit  fell  all  too  soon,  and  the  seeds 
it   dropped   were   borne  by  fugitives  from  the  foreigner's 


RELIGIOUS  IDEAS.  I  5 

yoke,  who  would  return  now  and  again  to  the  safe  pro- 
tection of  Attica's  fertile  soil. 

The  evolution  we  have  been  describing  took  its  course 
in  but  a  few  centuries  ;  its  splendid  results  included  the 
full  bloom  of  heroic  minstrelsy,  the  triumph  of  the  new 
forms  of  verse  we  have  mentioned  as  the  heirs  of  epic 
poetry,  and,  lastly,  the  rise  of  scientific  pursuits  and  philo- 
sophical speculation.  New  answers  were  given  to  the 
eternal  question  of  mankind — What  is  the  meaning  of 
self,  God,  and  the  world  .-'  and  these  new  answers  gradually 
replaced  or  reshaped  the  former  acceptations  of  religious 
belief. 

5.  Greek  religion  is  a  vessel  which  has  been  replenished 
from  the  treasury  of  enlightened  minds.  Poets  and  artists 
have  combined  to  idealize  its  gods  as  types  of  perfect 
beauty.  Still,  its  ultimate  springs  are  those  from  which 
mankind  has  derived  an  infinite  variety  of  figures  and 
forms,  partly  beautiful  and  wholesome,  partly  hurtful  and 
ugly. 

Human  thought  follows  twin  channels.  It  obeys  the 
law  of  likeness,  and  it  obeys  the  law  of  contiguity. 
While  similar  ideas  suggest  one  another,  yet  the  same 
result  is  evolved  by  ideas  which  occur  simultaneously  or 
in  immediate  succession.  An  absent  friend,  for  instance, 
may  be  recalled  to  our  thoughts  not  merely  by  the  sight 
of  his  portrait ;  the  rooms  in  which  he  dwelt,  the  tools 
which  he  handled,  serve  the  purpose  just  as  well.  These 
laws  are  summarily  known  as  the  laws  of  the  association 
of  ideas,  and  the  conception  of  natural  phenomena,  which 
may  be  called  the  personification  of  nature,  is  directly  and 
inevitably  due  to  their  action.  Whenever  the  savage 
perceives  a  motion  or  some  other  effect,  which,  whether 
by  its  rarity  or  by  its  intimate  connection  with  his  interests, 
strikes  his  mind  strongly  enough  to  set  his  associative 
faculties  at  work,  he  will  infallibly  cdncludc  that  the  occur- 
rence is  the  outcome  of  an  exercise  of  will.  The  reason 
is  extremely  simple.  A  savage  or  civilized  man  perceives 
the  connection  of  will-power  with  movement — or,  indeed, 
with  effects  of  any  kind — every  day  and  hour  of  his  life  ; 


1 6  GREEK    THINKERS. 

and  no  other  combination  whatever  enters  in  his   direct 
experience. 

Observation  of  other  hving  beings  continually  strengthens 
the  association  which  springs  from  this  inner  experience. 
Indeed,  effects  of  all  kinds  and  the  deliberate  exercise  of 
will-power  are  connected  so  frequently  in  our  mind  that 
where  one  of  the  two  is  found  we  confidently  look  for  the 
other.  This  expectation  has  been  gradually  confined  to 
narrower  limits  by  the  operation  of  experiences  of  a 
different  order,  chief  of  which  may  be  mentioned  the 
gradual  dominion  which  man  has  usurped  over  nature. 
But  in  instances  where  the  associative  force  of  ideas  is 
strengthened  by  powerful  passions,  or  where  it  is  insufifi- 
ciently  checked  by  experience  of  an  opposite  tendency, 
or,  again,  where  it  is  reinforced  by  the  second  principle 
of  association,  which  would  here  be  expressed  by  a  likeness 
between  an  unintentional  and  an  intentional  event,  in  such 
instances  our  expectation  breaks  all  bounds,  and  reduces 
the  civilized  man,  for  moments  at  least,  to  the  level  of  the 
primitive  savage.  These  are  cases  in  which  we  are  enabled 
to  test  the  truth  of  that  explanation  by  a  kind  of  experi- 
ment. Take  the  view  of  the  savage,  for  example.  A 
watch,  or  a  gun,  or  any  other  unfamiliar  mechanism,  he 
regards  as  a  living  being.  But  in  our  own  instance,  we 
are  not  thrown  back  on  such  primitive  conceptions.  We 
do  not  unconditionally  refer  lightning  and  thunder,  plague 
and  volcano,  to  the  activity  of  such  beings.  Nevertheless, 
there  are  moments  when  even  a  scientific  man  admits  the 
thought  of  outside  purpose  and  power,  even  though  he  be 
unable  to  assign  a  definite  form  to  the  power  whose  in- 
tervention he  believes  in.  Among  such  occasions  may 
be  counted  any  exceptional  windfall,  or  any  unparalleled 
misfortune,  especially  when  the  obvious  causes  of  the 
event  happen  not  to  be  in  adequate  proportion  to  the 
effect  that  is  produced.  Even  a  trivial  effect  may  afford 
an  illustration  of  our  argument  when  the  conditions  of  its 
origin — as  in  the  dispensations  of  the  gambling-table — 
defy  all  human  calculation.  Such  inarticulate  thoughts 
stand  wholly  apart  from  the  religious  beliefs  held  at  this 


ANIMATE  NATURE. 

date  by  civilized  mankind.     It  is  not  merely 
believer  is  affected  by  them  ;  the  man  of  orthov 
is   frequently  quite   unable  to  bring  the    suggestion 
flash  across  his  mind  into  harmony  with  the  dogmas 
he  has  formed  for  himself  or  accepted  from  others  as  t 
the  government  of  the  world  and  the  nature  of  its  ruler. 
This  Puck  of  superstition,  from  whose  visitation  no  man 
is  completely  exempt,  is  the  wan   and  spectral   image  of 
that   mighty  and   universal   generating   power   whence    is 
derived  an   endless   host   of  phantoms  of  all  shapes  and 
colours. 

A  second  step  towards  the  formation  of  religion  follows 
imperceptibly  on  the  first.  We  have  marked  t^p  nssnmp- 
tion  that  an  effect  is  due  to  an  exercise  of  will.  Next 
comes  the  observation  that  a  series  of  frequently  recurring 
effects  is  to  be  referred  to  one  and  the  same  natural  object. 
Thus  natural  objects  would  be  regarded  as  the  animate 
and  volitional  authors  of  such  processes,  and  human  instinct 
and  inclination,  human  passion  and  design,  were  ascribed 
to  them  in  their  capacity  of  exercising  an  effective  will- 
power after  the  human  pattern.  Wonder  and  admiration 
were  paid  to  them,  and  according  as  their  operations  were 
useful  and  wholesome,  or  the  reverse,  they  were  regarded 
with  love  or  fear.  The  great  objects  of  nature  exert  a  very 
considerable  influence  over  human  life,  and  it  was  chiefly  in 
such  cases  that  man  would  feel  himself  impelled  to  win  their 
favour,  to  confirm  their  good  will,  and  to  turn  their  possible 
hostility  to  an  auspicious  disposition.  He  would  endeavour 
to  persuade  the  heaven  to  send  fertilizing  rain  on  earth 
instead  of  destructive  storm  ;  he  would  try  to  induce  the 
sun  to  impart  a  gentle  warmth  instead  of  a  scorching  heat  ; 
he  would  implore  the  flood  not  to  sweep  away  his 
dwelling,  but  to  bear  his  frail  craft  uninjured  on  its  mighty 
stream.  He  would  seek  to  mollify  the  powers  that  govern 
his  existence  by  petitions,  thanksgivings,  and  offerings — 
means  he  found  so  efficacious  in  the  instance  of  his  earthly 
masters.  He  would  invoke  their  gracious  protection,  he 
would  thank  them  for  their  benefactions  in  the  past,  and 
he  would  supplicate  for  their  forgiveness  when  he  feared 
VOL.  I.  C 


1 8  GREEK    THINKERS. 

to  have  incurred  their  displeasure.  In  a  word,  he  would 
employ  both  prayer  and  sacrifice  in  the  forms  suggested 
by  his  limited  experience.  He  would  possess  a  religion 
and  a  cult. 

Hosts  of  spirits  and  demons,  not  wholly  disembodied, 
and  yet  not  wholly  material,  speedily  range  themselves  in 
line  with  these  objects  of  worship,  which  we  may  call 
natural  fetishes.  Savage  man,  unacquainted  as  he  was 
with  the  finer  distinctions  of  scientific  thought,  was  led  to 
believe  in  these  beings  by  a  triple  set  of  inferences.  The 
first  was  drawn  from  real  or  apparent  observations  of  the 
outer  world  ;  the  second  from  the  inner  or  moral  life  ; 
and  the  third  depended  on  observations  taken  at  the 
transition  from  life  to  death  in  the  human  and  animal 
creation. 

The  smell  of  a  flower  teaches  the  primitive  man  that 
there  are  objects  not  the  less  real  because  they  evade  his 
sight  and  touch.  The  wind,  whose  material  nature  he  can 
but  partially  understand,  makes  him  acquainted  with 
objects  that  can  be  felt,  but  not  seen.  Shadows,  that 
contain  the  outline  of  an  object  without  its  material  resist- 
ance, and  still  more  the  coloured  images  reflected  in  a 
sheet  of  water,  bring  astonishment  and  confusion  to  the 
mind  of  primitive  man.  In  both  instances  he  is  aware  of 
something  precisely  resembling  the  material  object,  which 
yet  mocks  his  endeavour  to  seize  it  and  touch  it.  Dream- 
pictures  serve  but  to  increase  his  confusion.  He  perceived 
them,  he  thought,  with  all  his  senses  at  once ;  they  stood 
in  bodily  shape  before  his  eyes,  and  still  in  the  morning 
the  doors  of  his  hut  were  as  firmly  closed  as  overnight. 
Men  and  beasts,  plants,  stones,  and  tools  of  all  kinds, 
stood  indisputably  before  him,  plainly  perceptible  to  sight, 
hearing,  and  touch,  and  yet  in  many  instances  there  could 
actually  have  been  no  room  for  them  in  the  limited 
accommodation  of  his  dwelling.  Thus  he  is  driven  to  the 
conclusion  that,  like  perfumes  and  winds,  shadows  and 
reflections,  they  were  the  souls  of  things.  Occasionally  it 
happens  that  the  visions  of  sleep  require  and  demand  a 
different  sort  of  explanation.     The  dreamer  is  not  always 


DEMONS   AND    OBJECT-SOULS.  1 9 

receiving  visits  from  the  souls  of  other  persons  or  things. 
Frequently  he  believes  himself  to  be  traversing  long  dis- 
tances, and  conversing  with  his  friends  in  far-ofif  homes. 
Hence  he  concludes  that  something — his  own  soul  or  one 
of  his  souls,  the  belief  in  a  plurality  of  souls  being  both 
natural  and  common, — has  temporarily  left  his  body.  He 
is  subject  to  the  same  experiences  with  the  same 
train  of  inferences  in  the  state  which  we  have  learnt  to 
call  hallucination.  The  irregular  life  led  by  primitive  man, 
with  its  long  fastings  and  sudden  excesses,  rendered  him 
as  liable  to  such  attacks  as  to  heavy  and  exciting  dreams. 
Those  souls  or  essences  of  things  must  be  taken  as  standing 
in  the  closest  relation  with  the  things  themselves,  which 
are  affected  by  whatever  affects  their  souls.  In  popular 
belief  it  is  still  a  bad  omen  to  tread  on  a  man's  shadow, 
and  in  one  of  the  tribes  of  South  Africa  the  crocodile  is 
believed  to  get  a  man  in  its  power  if  it  merely  snaps  at 
the  reflection  of  the  man  which  is  thrown  on  the  water 
from  the  bank.  So  the  doings  and  sufferings  of  persons 
in  dreams  is  of  the  gravest  import  to  the  living  originals. 

But  popular  belief  endows  the  soul  with  far  greater 
power  and  with  practical  independence  by  a  second  series 
of  considerations,  depending,  not  on  the  observations  of 
sense,  but  on  those  of  the  processes  of  will.  So  long  as 
the  inner  life  of  primitive  man  moves  in  a  uniform  and 
even  groove,  he  has  little  cause  to  reflect  on  the  seat  and 
origin  of  his  will  and  endeavour.  It  is  when  the  blood 
begins  to  surge  in  his  veins,  when  he  glows  and  thrills 
with  emotion,  that  his  beating  heart  teaches  him  of  its 
own  accord  how  that  region  of  his  body  is  the  theatre 
of  occurrences  which  he  is  impelled  to  explain  to  himself 
by  the  light  of  his  own  perception  and  of  the  analogies 
already  at  his  disposal.  Hitherto  he  has  been  accustomed 
to  connect  each  particular  effect  with  a  particular  Ik-ing  ; 
and  the  more  violent  and  sudden  the  change,  the  less  he 
will  be  able  to  rid  himself  of  the  impression  that  some 
Being  of  the  kind  is  stirring  and  ruling  in  his  own  breast. 
There  are  moments  when  he  is  seized  by  an  overpowering 
passion.     Rage,  for  instance,  fills  his  heart  and  drives  him 


20  GREEK   THINKERS. 

to   a   deed    of  bloodshed  that  he  may  presently  bitterly 
repent.     Or,  again,   in  the  very  act  of  committing   it,   a 
sudden   impulse  makes  him  hold  his  hand  ;  and  it  is  in 
moments  such  as  these  that  he  is  overcome  by  an  irresis- 
tible belief  in  one  or  more  Beings,  within  him  or  without 
him,  who  drive  him  to  action  or  restrain  him  from  the 
act.      Man's  belief  in  the  soul  reaches  its  most  effective 
point  in  the  circumstances  which  accompany  the  extinction 
of   the    individual    life.      It    is    once    more    the    cases   of 
sudden   change   which    make   the  deepest   impression   on 
the  observer,  and  give  the  lead  to  his  reflection.     If  dying 
were  always  a  gradual  decay  and  a  final  folding  of  the  hands 
to  sleep,  or  if  the  dead  man  were  always  changed  beyond 
recognition,  the  inferences  drawn  from  the  cessation  of  life 
might  have  taken  a  different  form.     Frequently,  however, 
no    outward   changes   disturb    the   features   of   the   dead. 
Death  comes  as  a  sudden  transition  from  complete  vigour 
to    complete    silence,    and   the  spectator   asks   himself  to 
what  causes  is  due  this  dread  and  terrifying  transformation. 
Something,  he   says    in    answer   to   himself,  has   departed 
from    the   dead   man   that   lent   him    life    and  movement. 
A  cessation  of  powers  and  qualities  which  a  moment  ago 
were  in  evidence  is  taken  literally  as  a  departure  and  as  a 
separation  in  space.     The  warm  breath,  so  mysterious  in 
its  origin,  which  the  living  body  always  exhaled,  has  been 
extinguished,  and  the  reflection  is  obvious  that  the  source 
of  the  arrested  processes  of  life  has  perished  simultaneously 
with  the  breath.     Violent  deaths,  when  life  seems  to  leave 
the  body  with  the  blood  pouring  from  the  wound,  awaken 
sometimes  a  belief  that  life  itself  is  borne  on  that  crimson 
stream.     A  second  theory  is  to  be  remarked  among  some 
other  peoples.     The  reflection  in  the  pupil  of  the  eye  which 
vanishes  at  the  approach  of  death  is  there  regarded  as  the 
source  of  the  processes  of  life  and  animation.     But  these 
attributes,  after    all,  are    most   commonly  ascribed  to  the 
warm  breath   or   steam   which  proceeds  from   within    the 
living  organism,  and  by  far  the  most  of  the  words  which 
are    used   in  different   languages    to   signify    "  soul "   and 
"spirit"  express  that  primary  meaning.     We  saw  in  both 


SURVIVAL    OF   THE   SOUL.  2  1 

explanations  of  the  visions  of  sleep  that  the  soul  was 
supposed  to  be  separable  from  the  body.  Their  temporary- 
separation  accounts  for  states  of  unconsciousness,  catalepsy, 
and  ecstasy,  just  as  the  explanation  of  pathological  con- 
ditions of  all  kinds,  such  as  madness,  convulsions,  and  the 
like,  may  best  be  sought  in  the  entry  of  a  foreign  soul 
into  the  body.  The  instance  of  demonic  possession  is  a 
case  in  point.  The  difference  is  that  the  separation  of 
the  two  elements  in  death  is  regarded  as  enduring  and 
final. 

We  see,  then,  that  the  breath  is  regarded  as  an 
independent  being,  but  there  is  no  ground  to  assume 
that  when  it  has  left  the  body  it  must  perish  as  well. 
On  the  contrary,  the  picture  of  the  beloved  dead  is  an 
unfading  possession  ;  his  soul,  in  other  words,  hovers  round 
us.  And  how — so  primitive  man  asked  himself — should  it 
be  otherwise  ?  The  soul  is  plainly  impelled  to  haunt  as 
long  as  it  can  the  old  familiar  places,  and  to  linger  about 
the  objects  which  it  cared  for  and  loved.  The  last  doubt 
on  this  question  is  dispelled  by  the  frequent  visitation 
of  the  image  of  the  departed  in  the  dreams  of  survivors 
in  the  night-time. 

Two  results  ensue  from  the  assumption  of  independent 
souls  or  spirits  outliving  their  connection  with  the  human 
and  maybe  the  animal  body.  In  the  first  place,  it  gave 
rise  to  a  second  class  of  objects  of  worship  parallel  to  the 
natural  fetishes.  Secondly,  it  supplied  a  pattern  on  which 
imagination  could  mould  a  series  of  other  Beings,  which 
either  existed  independently  or  temporarily  occupied  a 
visible  habitation.  There  was  no  lack  of  urgent  motives 
for  the  adoption  of  this  creed,  and  for  such  operations  of 
the  fancy  on  the  part  of  primitive  man.  He  was  governed 
by  outward  circumstances  in  a  hardly  conceivable  degree. 
11  is  desire  to  enlighten  the  darkness  that  surrounded  him 
at  every  step  was  only  matched  by  his  inability  to  give  it 
practical  satisfaction.  Sickness  and  health,  famine  and 
plenty,  success  and  failure  in  the  chase,  in  sport,  and  in  war, 
followed  one  another  in  bewildering  succession.  Savage 
man  naturally  wished  to  recognize  the  agents  of  his  fortune, 


2  2  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and  to  influence  them  on  his  own  behalf,  but  his  power- 
lessness  to  fulfil  that  longing  in  any  rational  manner  was 
stronger  than  the  wish  itself.  A  maximum  of  curiosity  in 
each  individual  was  combined  with  a  minimum  of  collec- 
tive knowledge.  Fancy  was  set  in  motion  on  every  side 
with  hardly  a  noticeable  exception  in  order  to  span  that 
gulf,  and  it  is  difficult  to  form  an  approximate  conception 
of  the  amount  of  imagination  at  play.  For  the  protective 
roof  which  civilization  has  built  over  man  is  at  the  same 
time  a  party-wall  interposed  between  him  and  nature. 
The  objects  of  natural  worship  were  indefinitely  extended. 
Forest  and  field,  bush  and  fountain,  were  filled  with  them. 
But  the  needs  of  primitive  man  outgrew  their  rate  of 
increase  ;  he  could  not  but  observe  that  his  weal  and  woe, 
his  success  and  misfortune,  were  not  invariably  connected 
with  objects  perceptible  to  sense.  He  observed  a  sudden 
scarcity  where  game  had  formerly  been  abundant  ;  he 
found  himself  all  at  once  no  match  for  the  foe  he  had 
frequently  routed ;  he  felt  a  paralysis  creep  through  his 
limbs,  or  a  mist  obstruct  his  consciousness,  and  in  none 
of  these  instances  could  he  blame  any  visible  being. 
He  seized  on  any  outward  circumstance  which  gave  a 
momentary  direction  to  his  bewildered  thought  as  an 
infallible  guide.  He  would  assume  a  close  and  definite 
connection  between  occurrences  that  happened  in  fortuitous 
coincidence  or  succession.  If  an  unknown  animal,  for 
instance,  were  suddenly  to  burst  from  the  thicket  at  a 
time  when  a  pestilence  was  raging,  he  would  straightway 
worship  it  and  implore  its  good  graces  as  the  author  of 
the  plague ;  and  through  all  this  uncertainty  primitive 
man  never  ceased  anxiously  to  look  for  the  agents  of  his 
good  luck  and  ill.  His  longing  for  help  and  salvation  re- 
mained insatiable  throughout.  Presently  he  turned  for  aid 
to  those  who  had  watched  over  him  in  life,  and  addressed 
his  prayers  to  the  spirits  of  his  departed  kinsfolk,  parents, 
and  forefathers.  The  worship  of  ancestors  was  started, 
and  with  it  went  the  supplication  of  spirits  not  confined 
to  natural  objects,  but  associated  in  thought  with  the 
ordinances  and  occurrences  of  life.     Spirits  were  assumed 


THREEFOLD    OBJECTS    OF    WORSHIP.  23 

with  powers  of  protection  and  mischief.  We  are  thus 
presented  with  three  classes  of  objects  of  worship, 
overlapping  one  another  at  various  points.  They  began 
to  react  on  one  another,  and  to  pass  into  one  another's 
spheres. 

The  legendary  figure  of  some  remote  ancestor, 
the  forefather  of  a  whole  tribe  or  race,  would  be  ranked 
on  a  footing  of  equality  with  the  great  natural  fetishes. 
It  might  happen,  indeed,  that  just  as  a  nation  or  an 
illustrious  tribe  would  regard  and  worship  the  sun  or  the 
sky  as  the  author  of  its  existence,  so  this  legendary  fore- 
father would  be  identified  with  one  of  those  fetishes.  Nor 
need  it  arouse  our  surprise  that  objects  of  nature  or  art 
should  come  to  be  looked  on  as  the  homes  of  ancestral  or 
other  spirits,  and  as  such  should  receive  a  form  of  worship 
and  be  ranked  as  secondary  fetishes.  They  would  owe 
these  honours  not  so  much  to  any  palpable  influence  they 
exercised  as  to  their  strangeness,  their  unaccustomed  shape 
or  colour,  or  their  accidental  connection  with  the  memory 
of  some  important  event.  Finally,  it  is  obvious  that  spirits 
or  demons,  originally  confined  to  no  fixed  abode,  would 
be  confused  at  times  with  a  natural  fetish  through  their 
similarity  in  name  or  qualities,  and  would  at  last  be 
merged  with  it  in  a  single  being.  It  is  wholly  illegitimate 
to  infer  from  occurrences  of  this  more  or  less  isolated 
character  that  any  of  the  three  great  classes  of  objects  of 
worship,  natural  fetishes  or  independent  spirits,  for  example, 
is  foreign  to  the  original  belief  of  the  people,  or  of  later  and 
adventitious  derivation.  As  well  might  one  conclude  from 
the  proved  worship  of  animals,  as  such,  or  from  the  deifi- 
cation of  men,  which  has  been  frequently  observed,  and 
which  still  obtains  through  the  great  Hindoo  civilization, 
that  these  arc  the  sole  or  even  the  chief  sources  of  religious 
belief.  It  is  always  difficult  and  often  hopeless  to  attempt 
to  follow  the  details  of  such  a  process  of  transformation, 
and  to  sift  the  nucleus  of  a  religion  from  its  gradual  accre- 
tions. But  the  fact  that  such  transformation  took  place, 
and  that  the  course  of  religious  development  was  thereby 
deeply  affected,   is  a  truth  which  may  be  stated  without 


24  GREEK    THINKERS. 

reserve.  At  this  point,  however,  it  will  be  well  to 
return  to  the  more  modest  path  from  which  we  have 
digressed. 

6.  The  gods  of  Greece  assembled  in  Olympus  round 
the  throne  of  Zeus,  hearkening  the  song  of  Apollo  and 
the  Muses,  sipping  nectar  from  golden  goblets,  involved  in 
adventures  of  war  and  love — we  cannot  but  perceive  how 
little  they  resemble  the  earliest  and  roughest  products  of 
religious  imagination.  They  are  severed  by  a  yawning  gulf 
which  it  would  seem  to  be  impossible  to  bridge  over.  Never- 
theless, the  appearance  is  fallacious.  The  exact  observer  will 
remark  a  vast  number  of  links  and  stepping-stones,  till  he  will 
hardly  venture  to  distinguish  between  the  beginning  of  the 
one  series  of  beings  and  the  end  of  the  other  ;  above  all,  be- 
tween the  end  of  the  natural  fetish  and  the  beginning  of  the 
anthropomorphic  god.  Comparative  philology  tells  us  that 
Zeus,  the  chief  of  the  gods  of  Olympus,  was  originally  no 
other  than  the  sky  itself  Hence  he  was  said  to  rain,  to 
hurl  the  lightnings,  and  to  gather  the  clouds.  Homer 
himself  still  entitles  the  Earth-goddess  "broad-bosomed" 
or  "  broad-wayed "  indifferently,  and  thus  shifts,  like  the 
colours  of  the  chameleon,  between  two  quite  contrary  con- 
ceptions. When  Earth  is  represented  by  an  old  theological 
poet  as  giving  birth  to  high  mountains  and  to  the  starry 
heaven  that  it  may  wholly  encompass  her,  or  when  Earth 
as  the  bride  of  Heaven  is  represented  as  the  mother  of 
deep-eddying  Ocean,  and  Ocean  again  with  Tethys  as 
engendering  the  rivers,  we  are  plainly  standing  with  both 
feet  in  the  realm  of  the  pure  worship  of  nature.  Presently, 
however,  we  are  confronted  with  a  different  set  of  stones. 
Fair-flowing  Xanthus  is  represented  by  Homer  as  subject 
to  a  wrathful  mood  ;  Achilles  fills  his  bed  with  dead  men  ; 
he  is  sorely  pressed  by  the  flames  ignited  by  Hephaestus, 
smith  of  the  gods  ;  he  is  in  danger  of  defeat  ;  he  stays  his 
course  in  order  to  escape  from  the  conflagration  ;  and  he 
implores  Hera  the  white-armed,  the  woman-like  consort  of 
the  king  of  the  gods,  to  help  him  to  resist  the  savage 
onslaught  of  her  son.  In  all  these  instances  we  are  surely 
conscious  of  two  fundamentally  different  kinds  of  religious 


ANTHROPOMORPHIC   GODS.  25 

imagination,  of  two  strata,  as  it  were,   which  a   volcanic 
eruption  has  thrown  into  hopeless  confusion. 

The  following  reply  may  be  attempted  to  the  question 
why  Greek  religion,  like  that  of  countless  other  peoples, 
has  undergone  this  transformation.  It  was  an  intrinsic 
tendency  of  the  associative  faculty,  which  led  to  the  per- 
sonification of  nature,  to  lend  more  and  more  of  a  human 
character  to  the  objects  of  worship.  First  came  the  con- 
nection in  thought  between  movements  or  effects  and 
the  impulses  of  the  human  will.  Next  volition  was  con- 
nected with  the  whole  range  of  human  emotion ;  and, 
finally,  the  range  of  human  emotion  was  associated  in 
thought  with  the  external  form  of  man  and  the  sum  of  the 
conditions  of  human  life.  This  development  took  a  slow 
course.  It  was  delayed  by  man  himself,  who,  on  the 
confines  of  savagery,  knowing  no  law  but  that  of  need, 
and  harassed  as  he  was  by  real  and  imaginary  dangers, 
was  not  yet  sufficiently  in  conceit  with  himself  to  form 
these  supreme  powers  in  his  own  mean  and  ignoble  image. 
Still,  the  gradual  beginnings  of  civilization  tended  to  -L. 
level  the  differences  and  to  reduce  the  distance  between 
the  heights  and  the  depths.  No  people,  we  may  conjec- 
ture, ever  yet  came  to  regard  the  great  powers  of  nature 
as  savages  living  on  roots  and  berries  in  a  state  of 
semi-starvation.  But  a  tribe  with  an  abundance  of  rich 
hunting-grounds  might  conceive  a  heavenly  huntsman  such 
as  the  Germanic  Wotan,  or,  like  the  farmers  of  ancient 
India,  would  figure  the  god  of  heaven  and  his  clouds  as 
a  shepherd  with  his  flock.  And  this  tendency  was 
notably  strengthened  by  the  auspicious  circumstances  of 
external  life,  which  awoke  the  desire  for  clearness,  dis- 
tinctness, and  a  logical  sequence  of  ideas.  It  is  now  tlic 
exception,  and  no  longer  the  rule,  to  meet  with  such 
vague,  indefinite,  and  contradictory  conceptions  as  that  of 
a  sensitive  stream,  or  of  a  river  brought  to  birth  by 
generation.  We  may  not  be  able  to  assert  conclusively 
whether  the  worship  of  ancestors  or  of  fetishes  was  the 
earlier  in  time,  but  we  can  assert  that,  old  as  demonism 
may  have  been,  it  must  have  been  extended  by  the  division 


26  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  labour  and  the  growing  diversity  of  life.  Fresh  demons 
had  to  be  created  to  meet  the  multiplicity  of  human 
business  and  experience.  But  these  independent  spirits 
offer  less  opposition  to  the  personifying  faculty  than  objects 
of  natural  worship,  and  they  presently  formed  the  model 
on  which  the  last-named  were  moulded.  Demons,  like 
souls,  were  conceived  as  entering  human  bodies.  Our 
remarks  about  demonic  possession  will  recur  in  this  con- 
nection, and  the  process  which  nothing  prevented  and 
many  conditions  assisted  was  speedily  adapted  to  the  case 
of  natural  fetishes.  Spirits  and  gods  whose  habitation  is 
confined  to  external  things,  which  they  use  as  their  instru- 
ments, now  replace  or  accompany  the  volitional  and  con- 
scious objects  of  nature.  Thus  the  god  and  the  external 
thing  are  no  longer  completely  identified.  They  merely 
stand  in  the  relation  of  tenant  and  abode.  The  god 
becomes  more  independent  of  the  destiny  of  the  object 
he  inhabits ;  his  sphere  of  activity  is  no  longer  confined  to 
it,  but  he  obtains  an  allowance  of  free  action. 

The  graceful  feminine  figures  which  the  Greeks  wor- 
shipped as  nymphs  afford  an  instructive  example  of  this 
transformation.  Homer's  hymn  to  Aphrodite  takes  cog- 
nizance of  dryads  who  share  in  the  dance  of  the  Immortals 
and  sport  with  Hermes  and  the  fauns  under  the  shadows 
of  the  rocks.  But  the  pines  and  the  high-branching  oaks 
they  inhabit  are  something  more  than  their  mere  dwelling- 
place.  These  beings  are  but  half  divine  ;  they  are  born, 
they  grow,  and  they  die  together  with  the  abodes  they 
haunt.  Other  nymphs  are  exempt  from  that  fate.  They 
dwell  in  water-brooks,  meadows,  and  groves,  but  they  are 
numbered  with  the  Immortals,  and  they  are  not  missing 
from  the  great  council  of  the  gods  when  Zeus  gathers 
them  in  his  gleaming  halls.  We  may  draw  the  following 
conclusion.  There  was  a  time  when  the  tree  itself  was 
personified  and  worshipped.  Next  came  a  period  when 
the  spirit  of  its  life  was  regarded  as  an  independent  being, 
separable  from  it,  but  closely  bound  up  with  its  destiny. 
Finally,  this  last  bond  was  severed  as  well  ;  the  divine 
being  was  liberated,  as  it  were,  and  hovered  indestructibly 


VICTORY   OF  POLYTHEISM.  27 

over  the  perishable  object  of  its  care.  This  final  and 
decisive  step  put  polytheism  in  the  place  of  fetishism. 
Traces  of  the  era  of  fetishes  linger  about  but  a  few  of  the 
great  unique  objects  of  nature,  such  as  the  earth,  the  stars, 
and  the  legendary  Oceanus.  And  even  in  these  instances 
fresh  figures  were  created  under  the  influence  of  the  new 
thought  to  accompany  the  older  deities,  barely  touched  as 
they  were  by  the  finger  of  anthropomorphism.  A  further 
development  may  here  be  remarked.  These  natural  spirits, 
released  from  their  external  objects,  were  set  an  appointed 
task  just  as  certain  independent  deities  presided  over  whole 
categories  of  occupation.  They  were  appointed  to  wood 
or  garden,  to  the  fountain,  the  wind,  and  so  forth,  and 
became  what  has  appropriately  been  termed  "  class-gods." 
This  transformation  was  assisted,  apart  from  the  influence 
of  demonism,  by  the  progressive  perception  of  the  intrinsic 
likeness  in  whole  series  of  beings.  Man's  generalizing 
powers  found  here  their  earliest  satisfaction,  and  his  artistic 
and  inventive  faculties  were  provided  with  inexhaustible 
material  in  the  contemplation  of  the  free  action  of  the 
gods. 

The  Greeks  were  furnished  in  a  pre-eminent  degree 
with  the  conditions  requisite  for  the  progress  of  personifi- 
cation, and  for  the  idealization  of  the  divine  powers  which 
depended  on  it.  The  demand  for  clearness  and  distinct- 
ness may  have  been  a  birthright  of  the  Greeks  ;  it  was 
obviously  strengthened  by  the  bright  air  and  brilliant  sky 
enjoyed  through  the  greater  part  of  Hellas,  by  the  sharp 
outline  of  its  hills,  by  its  wide  and  yet  circumscribed 
horizon.  The  Greek  sense  of  beauty  was  constantly  fed 
on  landscapes  combining  in  the  smallest  compass  all  the 
loveliest  elements  of  nature.  Green  pastures  and  snowy 
peaks,  dusky  pine-woods  and  smiling  meadows,  wide 
prospects  over  land  and  sea,  fascinated  the  eye  at  every 
turn.  And  the  inventive  spirit  which  was  later  to  display 
itself  in  the  rich  and  teeming  inheritance  of  Greek  poetry 
and  art  must  surely  have  seized  on  the  first  material 
at  its  disposal,  and  therein  have  spent  the  powers  which 
were  denied  expression  elsewhere. 


28  GREEK    THINKERS. 

It  is  difficult  to  follow  the  course  of  this  evolution  in 
detail,  and  our  difficulty  is  enhanced  by  the  character  of 
the  literary  monuments  that  have  reached  us.  It  was 
a  cherished  belief  of  former  generations  that  Homer's 
poems  were  produced  in  the  infancy  of  Greece.  Schlie- 
mann's  spade  has  destroyed  this  illusion.  A  notable 
degree  of  material  civilization  clearly  distinguished  the 
eastern  portions  of  Greece — the  islands,  and  the  shore 
of  Asia  Minor — soon  after  1500  B.C.  The  conditions 
of  human  life  depicted  by  the  Homeric  poems  are  the 
result  of  a  comparatively  long  development  contami- 
nated by  Egypt  and  the  East.  When  we  recall  the 
splendid  banqueting-halls,  with  their  plates  of  beaten 
metals,  their  blue  glazed  friezes  on  a  gleaming  alabaster 
ground,  their  ceilings  artistically  carved,  and  their  drinking- 
cups  of  embossed  gold,  we  look  in  vain  for  traces  of 
primitive  man  in  the  princes  and  nobles  whose  Round 
Table  was  the  theme  of  the  Homeric  poems.  Their 
passions,  it  is  true,  were  still  uncontrolled.  Otherwise  the 
insatiable  wrath  of  Achilles  or  Meleager  would  never  have 
become  a  favourite  subject  for  poetic  description.  We 
recall  the  period  in  which  the  Niebelungenlied  was  com- 
posed, when  the  original  and  untamed  force  of  passionate 
sensibility  fell  on  an  era  of  foreign  manners  and  imported 
refinement  of  taste.  But  we  find  no  trace  in  these  heroes  of 
the  timidity  and  awe  with  which  the  almighty  forces  of  nature 
were  regarded  by  primitive  man.  The  gods  were  fashioned 
by  the  nobles  after  the  pattern  of  their  own  existence,  as 
they  acquired  more  and  more  self-esteem,  more  and  more 
security,  in  the  stress  of  life.  Olympus  became  a  mirror 
of  heroic  experience,  and  its  gorgeous  and  frequently 
tumultuous  features  were  faithfully  reproduced.  Gods  and 
men  approached  each  other  with  a  familiarity  never  since 
repeated.  Men  wore  no  little  of  divine  dignity  ;  the  gods 
took  no  mean  share  of  human  weakness.  The  virtues 
ascribed  to  the  gods  were  the  virtues  dearest  to  those 
warriors — qualities  of  valour  and  pride,  and  steadfastness 
in  friendship  and  hate.  Gods,  like  men,  were  affected  by 
strong   individual   motives  ;    the   obligation    of  duty   was 


THE    GODS    OF  HOMER.  29 

almost  always  a  matter  of  personal  loyalty,  and  in  the 
Iliad  at  least  they  but  rarely  appear  as  the  champions  of 
abstract  justice.  To  their  worshippers  who  lavished 
precious  gifts  on  them,  to  the  cities  that  dedicated 
splendid  temples  to  them,  to  the  tribes  and  races  which 
traditionally  enjoyed  their  favour,  they  lent  their  faithful 
protection  with  a  loyalty  as  resolute  as  it  was  untiring. 
They  were  but  little  restrained  by  any  scruples  of 
morality  ;  nay,  their  special  favourites  were  endowed  by 
them  with  talents  for  perjury  and  theft.  They  seldom 
paused  to  consider  the  rights  or  wrongs  of  the  matter  to 
which  they  devoted  their  assistance,  else  how  could  some 
of  the  gods  have  been  found  on  the  side  of  the  Greeks, 
while  others  with  equal  interest  and  trouble  supported  the 
Trojan  cause  t  How,  again,  could  Poseidon  in  the 
Odyssey  have  persecuted  patient  Ulysses  with  inex- 
haustible hate,  while  Athene  proved  herself  in  every 
danger  his  trusty  counsellor  and  shield  .''  Their  obedience 
was  solely  due  to  the  god  of  heaven,  chief  of  the  gods, 
and  more  often  than  not  they  obeyed  him  with  reluctance, 
and  used  every  artifice  of  deceit  and  guile  to  evade  the 
obligation  of  his  command.  Moreover,  the  heavenly  over- 
lord resembled  his  earthly  prototype  in  that  his  power 
did  not  rest  on  the  immovable  foundation  of  law.  He 
found  himself  frequently  obliged  to  extort  the  fulfilment 
of  his  orders  by  the  employment  of  threats,  and  even  by 
violent  maltreatment.  There  was  a  single  peremptory 
exception  to  the  chaos  induced  by  the  acts  and  passions 
of  the  Immortals.  Moira,  or  Fate,  was  supreme  over  gods 
and  men  alike,  and  in  her  worship  we  recognize  the  faint 
and  earliest  perception  of  the  operation  of  law  throughout 
the  range  of  experience.  Thus  the  oldest  monuments  of 
the  Greek  intellect  that  have  reached  us  show  us  the 
gods  in  as  human  a  form  as  is  compatible  with  reverent 
worship,  and  instances  indeed  could  be  found  where  that 
last  limit  was  transgressed.  Take,  for  example,  the  love- 
story  of  Ares  and  Aphrodite  ;  it  stirred  the  Ph;eacians 
to  ribald  mirth,  and  it  evinces  a  worldliness  in  religious 
conception  which,  like  the  exclusive  cult  of  beauty  of  the 


30  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Cinquecento,  could  hardly  have  spread  over  wide  classes 
of  the  population  without  seriously  affecting  the  heart  of 
religious  belief.  The  majesty  of  the  ancient  Greek  religion 
is  not  to  be  found  in  the  confines  of  the  courtly  epic, 
where  the  joys  of  the  world  and  the  flesh  and  the  frank 
deliciousness  of  life  disperse  the  gloomier  aspects  of 
belief,  and  clothe  them,  so  to  speak,  with  their  brilliance. 
The  exceptional  occurrences  that  seem  to  contradict  this 
view  will  be  found  to  be  its  clearest  illustration. 

Homeric  man  believed  himself  to  be  constantly  and 
universally  surrounded  by  gods  and  dependent  on  them. 
He  attributed  his  good  luck  and  ill,  his  successful  spear- 
thrust  or  his  enemy's  escape,  to  the  friendship  or  hostility 
of  a  demon.  Every  cunning  plan,  every  sound  device, 
was  credited  to  divine  inspiration,  and  every  act  of  in- 
fatuated blindness  was  ascribed  to  the  same  cause.  It  was 
the  aim  of  all  his  endeavours  to  win  the  favour  of  the 
Immortals  and  to  avert  their  wrath.  But  despite  this  de- 
pendence, and  despite  the  occurrence,  in  the  Iliad  especially, 
with  its  shifting  battle-scenes,  of  situations  fraught  with 
dire  peril,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  man  himself,  the  costliest 
of  human  possessions,  is  never  offered  as  a  sacrifice  to  the 
gods.  The  religion  of  the  Greeks,  like  that  of  most  other 
peoples,  was  familiar  with  human  sacrifices  ;  but  though  it 
survives  till  the  full  light  of  historic  times,  it  is  completely 
missing  from  the  picture  of  civilization  displayed  by  the 
Homeric  poems.  Or  rather,  the  abominable  custom  is 
mentioned  therein  on  one  single  occasion,  as  the  exception 
which  proves  the  rule.  At  the  splendid  obsequies  devised 
by  Achilles  in  honour  of  Patroclus,  the  well-beloved,  we 
are  told  that,  besides  innumerable  sheep  and  oxen,  besides 
four  horses  and  two  favourite  hounds,  twelve  Trojan  youths 
were  first  slaughtered  and  then  burnt  with  the  body 
of  his  dead  friend.  This  complete  consumption  of  the 
offering  by  fire  is  proved  by  more  recent  ritual  evidence 
to  have  been  the  ceremony  in  vogue  among  worshippers  of 
the  infernal  deities.  The  blood  of  the  slaughtered  beasts  and 
men  is  first  suffered  to  trickle  over  the  corpse,  and  the  soul 
is  supposed  to  be  present  and  to  be  refreshed  and  honoured 


HUMAN  SACRIFICE   ABSENT.  3  I 

by  the  gifts  it  receives.  Achilles  performs  by  this  act  a 
solemn  obligation  to  the  dead,  and  narrates  it  to  the  soul, 
when  it  appears  to  him  by  night,  and  again  at  the 
funeral  itself.  But,  strangely  enough,  the  description  of 
this  revolting  deed  has  none  of  that  sensuous  breadth  and 
detail  which  we  correctly  call  the  epic  style,  and  find  so 
characteristic  of  Homer.  Rather  the  poet  glides,  as  it 
were,  with  deliberate  haste  over  the  horrible  story.  He 
and  his  audience  seem  to  shrink  from  it ;  it  is  the  legacy 
of  a  world  of  thought  and  feeling  from  which  the  vitality 
has  departed,  and  this  impression  is  strengthened  by  other 
and  kindred  observations.  Except  for  this  single  instance, 
hardly  any  trace  whatsoever  is  found  in  the  Homeric 
poems  of  the  whole  series  of  rites  connected  with  and 
dependent  on  the  belief  in  the  protracted  existence  of 
powerful  beings  rising  with  spectral  influence  from  the 
grave,  and  constantly  demanding  fresh  tokens  of  propitia- 
tion. There  are  no  sacrifices  to  the  dead,  whether  bloody 
or  bloodless,  there  is  no  purification  for  homicide,  no 
worship  of  souls  or  ancestors.  The  souls,  it  is  true,  survive 
the  bodies,  but  they  are  well-nigh  exclusively  confined  to 
the  far  infernal  realms  of  death,  where  they  wander  as 
"  powerless  heads,"  vagrant  shadows,  and  bloodless  ghosts, 
of  no  efficacy  and  of  little  account.  It  was  quite  different 
in  later  times,  and,  as  we  learn  from  trustworthy  discoveries 
and  equally  trustworthy  conclusions,  in  earlier  times  too. 
We  may  appropriately  dwell  on  this  point,  which  is  of 
great  importance  to  the  history  of  the  belief  in  souls  and 
to  religious  history  in  general. 

7.  The  sacrifice  of  prisoners  or  slaves  is  a  funeral 
custom  of  remote  antiquity,  and  one  which  is  widely 
spread  in  our  own  times.  The  Scythians,  when  they 
buried  their  king,  used  to  strangle  one  of  his  concubines 
and  five  of  his  slaves — the  cook,  the  cup-bearer,  the 
chamberlain,  the  groom,  and  the  doorkeeper — and  these, 
together  with  his  favourite  horses,  and  with  a  cjuantity  of 
costly  vessels,  of  golden  goblets  and  so  forth,  would  be 
committed  to  the  royal  grave.  After  the  lapse  of  a  year, 
fifty  more  chosen  slaves  were  strangled,  set  upon  as  many 


32  GREEK   THINKERS. 

slaughtered  horses,  and  stationed  round  the  tomb  like  a 
guard  of  honour. 

Many  pages  and  chapters  might  be  filled  with  the 
enumeration  of  similar  customs,  from  which  the  Hindoo 
suttee  is  also  derived.  Naturally  they  show  a  long  course  of 
gradations,  varying  from  the  savage  and  barbarous  to  the 
tender  and  refined.  Human  sacrifices  were  followed  by 
animal  sacrifices,  and  these  in  their  turn  by  drink  sacrifices 
and  other  bloodless  offerings,  ^schylus  and  Sophocles 
represent  Agamemnon's  tomb  in  Mycenae  as  the  recipient 
of  libations  of  milk,  locks  of  hair,  and  garlands  of  flowers. 
But  newly  discovered  tombs  of  the  kings  in  that  city, 
dating  from  hoary  antiquity,  show  traces  of  sacrificial 
offerings  of  a  far  more  substantial  kind.  Bones  of  animals, 
and  human  remains  too,  were  found  there,  besides  innu- 
merable most  costly  weapons,  drinking-cups,  and  other 
vessels.  Taking  these  objects  in  connection  with  the 
altars  discovered  in  the  vaulted  tomb  at  Orchomenus  in 
Boeotia,  we  may  infer  that  the  souls  of  the  dead  enjoyed 
adoration  and  worship  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word. 
The  cult  of  ancestors  and  souls  has  been  in  almost  universal 
vogue.  It  is  still  as  widely  spread  among  the  most  debased 
savages  in  all  regions  of  the  earth  as  among  the  highly 
civilized  Chinese,  in  whose  state-religion  it  plays  the  most 
important  part.  It  takes  precedence,  too,  in  the  beliefs  of 
nations  of  Aryan  descent.  The  Romans  observed  it  no  less 
than  the  Greeks,  and  the  "  Manes  "  of  ancient  Rome  were 
the  "  pitaras  "  of  the  Hindoos.  The  extinction  of  a  family  at 
Athens  was  regarded  as  ominous,  inasmuch  as  its  ancestors 
would  be  deprived  of  the  honours  that  were  due  to  them. 
The  whole  population  of  Greece,  and  the  communities  of 
which  it  was  composed  in  a  series,  as  it  were,  of  concentric 
circles,  addressed  their  prayers  to  real  or  imaginary  fore- 
fathers. And  so  imperious  was  this  need  that  professional 
brotherhoods  or  guilds  would  invent  a  common  ancestor, 
should  they  otherwise  not  possess  one.  The  custom  was 
bound  up  with  the  origins  of  state  and  society,  which  were 
originally  ranked  as  merely  extended  family  groups.  But 
our  immediate  interest  is  confined  to  the  deepest  root  of 


PRE'HOMERTC  IDEAS.  33 

this  custom — the  belief  in  the  protracted  existence  of  the 
soul  as  a  powerful  being  with  enduring  influence  on  the 
success  and  failure  of  its  living  descendants.  We  have 
already  discussed  the  source  of  this  belief,  and  we  shall 
later  be  occupied  with  the  changes  that  it  underwent.  At 
present  we  have  to  dispel  a  misunderstanding  which  might 
darken  our  historical  insight. 

The  souls  depicted  by  Homer  have  dwindled  to  pale 
and  ineffectual  shadows.  Their  worship,  and  the  customs 
that  arise  from  it,  are  practically  obsolete  in  his  poems,  but 
it  would  be  erroneous  to  conclude  from  these  facts  that  the 
evidence  from  comparative  ethnology  should  be  neglected, 
or  that  the  oldest  form  of  this  part  of  the  Greek  religion 
is  preserved  in  epic  poetry.  The  discoveries  dating  from 
the  period  of  civilization  which  is  now  called  the  Mycenaean 
have  shattered  the  last  foundation  of  every  possible  doubt. 
The  causes  that  induced  this  change  in  religious  ideas  can 
only  be  arrived  at  by  conjecture.  It  plainly  depended,  not 
merely  on  temporal,  but  also  on  local  conditions,  and  at 
first,  at  least,  it  was  probably  confined  to  certain  classes  of 
the  population.  At  the  period  of  which  we  are  speaking 
the  custom  of  burning  the  dead  body  prevailed,  and  the 
consequent  belief  obtained,  and  was  clearly  expressed  by 
Homer,  that  the  consuming  flames  finally  severed  body 
from  soul,  and  consigned  the  soul  to  the  realm  of  shadows. 
In  connection  with  the  development  of  Greek  religion, 
considerable  influence  has  been  attached  to  this  custom 
and  its  results.  Of  hardly  secondary  account  may  be 
reckoned  the  local  separation  of  colonists  from  their 
ancestral  tombs,  and  from  the  seats  of  worship  appertain- 
ing to  them  in  the  mother-country.  But  of  greater 
importance  than  all  was  the  joy  in  life  and  the  world,  so 
repellent  to  melancholy  and  gloom,  which  pervades  the 
Homeric  poems.  It  shrank  from  the  sinister  and  the 
spectral  with  the  same  invincible  optimism  that  banished 
the  ugly  and  the  grotesque  from  its  purview.  Nor  was 
it  only  the  shades  of  the  dead  that  had  to  recede  into 
the  background.  Spectral  godheads  such  as  Hecate, 
horrible  spirits  such  as  the  Titans  with  their  hundred  arms 
VOL.  I.  1> 


34  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and  fifty  heads,  coarse  and  revolting  myths  such  as  that 
of  the  emasculation  of  Uranus,  were  similarly  compelled 
to  give  way  to  the  instinct  of  joy  ;  and  monsters  of  the 
type  of  the  round-eyed  Cyclops  were  treated  in  a  more 
playful  humour.  Two  alternative  inferences  present  them- 
selves. We  may  either  regard  the  gradual  growth  of  the 
sense  of  beauty  and  the  rise  in  the  standard  of  life 
dependent  on  the  progress  of  material  civilization  as  the 
chief  factor  of  development  ;  or  we  may  ascribe  to  the 
people  who  invented  philosophy  and  natural  science  the 
possession,  even  in  those  early  times,  of  the  elements  of 
rationalistic  enlightenment.  In  other  words,  is  the  change  in 
the  soul-idea  which  confronts  us  in  Homer  to  be  attributed 
in  the  first  instance  to  the  lightness  or  to  the  brightness 
of  the  Ionian  genius  }  This  question  does  not  yet  admit 
of  a  definite  answer.  We  owe  the  possibility  of  its  dis- 
cussion to  the  brilliant  intellectual  and  analytical  powers 
of  a  contemporary  student  in  these  fields. 

8.  The  personification  of  Nature  must,  then,  primarily 
be  thanked  for  the  inexhaustible  material  it  supplied  to 
the  play,  first  of  imagination  and  next  of  imagination 
heightened  to  art.  But  it  must  further  be  recognized  as 
having  been  the  earliest  to  satisfy  the  curiosity  of  man, 
and  his  craving  for  light  in  the  deep  darkness  in  the 
midst  of  which  we  live  and  breathe.  The  "why"  and 
"  wherefore "  of  sensible  phenomena  are  questions  that 
cannot  be  avoided,  and  the  spontaneous  presumption  that 
everything  which  happens  is  due  to  the  impulse  of  voli- 
tional beings — a  presumption  springing  from  the  unlimited 
dominion  of  the  association  of  ideas — affords,  it  must  be 
admitted,  a  sort  of  answer  in  itself.  It  is  a  kind  of  philo- 
sophy of  nature,  capable  of  infinite  extension  in  proportion 
to  the  increase  of  the  number  of  phenomena  observed,  and 
to  the  more  and  more  clearly  defined  shapes  of  the  powers 
of  nature,  regarded  as  living  beings.  Primitive  man  is  not 
merely  a  poet,  believing  in  the  truth  of  his  inventions  ;  he 
is,  in  his  way,  a  kind  of  investigator  as  well.  The  mass  of 
answers  which  he  gives  to  the  questions  continually  pressing 
on  him   is  gradually  composed  to  an  all-embracing  weft, 


NA  TURE-MYTHS.  3  5 

and  the  threads  thereof  are  myths.  As  evidence  of  this, 
we  may  instance  the  popular  legends  of  all  times  and 
countries  with  their  remarkable  points  of  likeness  and  their 
no  less  striking  points  of  difference.  The  two  greatest 
heavenly  bodies  figure  in  almost  every  nation  as  a  related 
pair,  whether  in  the  relation  of  husband  and  wife  or  of 
sister  and  brother.  Numberless  myths  represent  the  phases 
of  the  moon  as  the  wandering  of  the  lunar  goddess,  and 
the  occasional  eclipses  of  sun  and  moon  as  the  consequences, 
partly  of  domestic  strife,  partly  of  the  hostile  attacks  of 
dragons  and  monsters.  The  Semite,  for  example,  explained 
the  weakness  of  the  sun  in  winter  by  the  story  of  Samson's 
— the  sun-god's — bewitchment  by  the  seductive  goddess  of 
the  night,  who  robbed  him  of  his  shining  hair  ;  as  soon  as 
his  long  locks,  the  sunbeams,  in  which  his  strength  resided, 
were  cut  off,  it  was  an  easy  task  to  blind  him.  The 
ancient  Indian  regarded  the  clouds  as  cows — as  soon  as 
they  were  milked  the  fruitful  rain  poured  down  ;  if  the 
quickening  moisture  were  long  delayed,  the  drought  was 
ascribed  to  evil  spirits  who  had  stolen  the  herds  and 
hidden  them  in  rocky  caves,  and  Indra,  the  god  of  heaven, 
had  to  descend  on  the  storm-wind  to  free  them  from 
their  bondage,  and  rescue  them  from  the  robbers.  The 
dreadful  spectacle  afforded  to  the  gaze  of  primitive  man 
by  a  mountain  emitting  flames  would  forthwith  seem  to 
him  the  work  of  a  demon  dwelling  in  the  bowels  of  the 
earth.  Many  tribes  would  content  themselves  with  this 
explanation,  but  one  or  another  would  presently  ask  why 
it  was  that  so  mighty  a  spirit  should  be  confined  in  infernal 
darkness.  The  answer  would  suggest  itself  spontaneously, 
that  he  had  been  vanquished  in  conflict  with  a  yet  more 
powerful  being.  Thus  Typhon  and  Enceladus  were  looked 
on  by  the  Greeks  as  the  vanquished  opponents  of  the  great 
god  of  heaven,  bearing  the  heavy  penalty  of  their  crime. 
Or  take  the  instance  of  the  earth,  from  whose  womb  came 
forth  a  constant  procession  of  fruits.  How  natural  it  was 
to  represent  her  as  a  woman  impregnated  by  the  heaven 
above  her,  who  sent  down  his  life-giving  rain.  This  world- 
wide myth  has  been  turned  to  various  forms.     The  Maoris 


36  GREEK    THINKERS. 

and  Chinese,  the  Phoenicians  and  Greeks,  would  ask  why- 
husband  and  wife  were  kept  so  far  apart  from  each  other, 
instead  of  dwelling  in  the  intimate  relations  of  a  conjugal 
pair.  The  inhabitants  of  New  Zealand  replied  with  the 
story  that  the  offspring  of  Rangi  (heaven)  and  Papa  (earth) 
had  no  room  to  live  as  long  as  their  parents  were  united. 
So  at  last  they  made  up  their  minds  to  relieve  themselves 
from  the  pressure  and  the  darkness,  and  one  of  them — the 
mighty  god  and  father  of  the  forests — succeeded,  after 
many  vain  attempts  on  the  part  of  his  brethren,  in  sunder- 
ing their  parents  by  force.  But  the  love  of  heaven  and 
earth  survived  their  separation.  Passionate  sighs,  which 
men  call  mist,  still  rise  to  heaven  from  the  breast  of  mother- 
earth,  and  tears  still  trickle  from  the  eyes  of  the  sad  god 
of  heaven,  and  are  called  by  men  drops  of  dew.  This 
ingenious  and  highly  poetical  myth  of  the  Maoris  gives 
the  key  to  a  similar  but  far  coarser  legend  which  obtained 
in  Greece,  and  of  which  merely  fragments  have  come  down 
to  us.  Hesiod  tells  us  that  the  earth  was  cramped  and 
oppressed  by  her  teeming  burden  of  children,  of  which 
heaven  was  the  father.  But  heaven,  adds  the  poet,  would 
not  suffer  them  to  come  to  birth,  but  thrust  them  back 
in  their  mother's  womb.  Panting  from  her  labours,  she 
devises  a  cunning  scheme,  and  confides  its  execution  to 
one  of  her  sons.  Cronos  whets  his  sickle  and  mutilates 
Uranus  his  father,  so  that  he  is  debarred  from  further  pro- 
creation, and  Gaia  is  released  thenceforward  from  her 
husband's  embraces,  and  is  enabled,  we  may  add,  to  find 
room  for  the  offspring  with  whom  she  is  teeming. 

We  may  mark  at  this  point  the  following  conclusion. 
The  process  of  personification  was  not  confined  to  mere 
objects,  but  was  extended  to  forces,  states,  and  qualities. 
Night,  darkness,  death,  sleep,  love,  appetite,  infatuation, 
were  all  looked  on  by  the  Greeks  as  individual  beings 
more  or  less  successfully  personified.  Some  are  completely 
embodied,  others  stand  out  from  the  background  of  their 
content  as  imperfectly  as  a  bas-relief  The  relations 
existing  between  these  forces  or  states  are  explained  by 
analogies    from    human    or    animal    life.      Likeness,    for 


PROCESS    OF   PERS OXIFICATION.  ^J 

instance,  figures  as  relationship,  death  and  sleep  are  twin 
brothers  ;  consecution  figures  as  generation,  so  that  day 
is  the  offspring  of  night,  or  night  of  day  indifferently.  All 
groups  of  like  nature  appear  as  tribes,  kindred,  or  families, 
and  traces  of  this  process  of  thought  are  to  be  found  in 
our  language  to  this  day.  Finally,  the  habit  of  explaining 
an  enduring  condition  or  the  recurring  incidents  of  the 
world  by  mythical  fictions  led  to  the  attempt  to  solve  the 
great  riddles  of  human  life  and  fate  in  a  similar  manner. 
The  Greek  in  his  dark  hour  of  pessimism  would  ask  why 
the  evils  of  life  were  so  much  in  excess  of  its  blessings, 
and  the  question  immediately  suggested  a  second  one — 
Who  and  what  brought  evil  in  the  world  .''  And  his  answer 
mainly  resembles  that  of  the  modern  Frenchman,  the  sum 
of  whose  researches  into  the  source  of  innumerable  trans- 
gressions was  contained  in  the  words  "  cherchez  la  femmc." 
But  the  ancient  Greek  cast  his  indictment  of  the  weaker 
and  fairer  sex  in  the  form  of  a  single  charge.  He  relates 
that  Zeus,  with  the  help  of  the  rest  of  the  gods,  in  order 
to  punish  Prometheus  for  his  theft  of  fire  and  the  conse- 
quent arrogance  of  mankind,  created  a  woman  adorned 
with  all  the  graces  as  the  mother  of  the  female  race,  and 
sent  her  down  to  the  earth.  At  another  time  the  Greek, 
still  groping  for  enlightenment  on  this  subject,  accused 
curiosity  or  the  thirst  for  knowledge  as  the  root  of  all  evil. 
If  the  gods,  he  said,  had  endowed  us  with  every  blessing, 
and  had  locked  up  all  evils  in  a  box,  and  had  straightly 
warned  us  not  to  open  it,  human — and  chiefly  woman's — 
curiosity  would  have  set  at  nought  the  divine  prohibition. 
Both  myths  are  merged  in  one  :  Pandora,  the  woman,  as 
her  name  implies,  adorned  with  every  seductive  gift,  is 
the  woman,  stung  by  curiosity,  who  lifts  the  lid  of  the 
fateful  box  and  lets  its  perilous  contents  escape.  Once 
more  we  are  astounded  at  the  similarity  of  mythical 
invention  obtaining  among  the  most  diverse  peoples,  and 
one  almost  involuntarily  recalls  the  allied  Hebraic  story 
of  Eve — the  mother  of  all  life — and  the  ominous  conse- 
quences of  her  sinful  curiosity, 

9.  The  multiplicity  of  myths  and  the  crowd  of  deities 


o 


8  GREEK    THINKERS. 


must  at  last  have  proved  a  weariness  and  a  stumbling- 
block  to  the  orthodox  Greek,  Legends  clustered  like 
weeds  in  a  pathless  and  primeval  forest,  obstructed  by 
ever-fresh  undergrowth.  The  thinning  axe  was  wanted, 
and  a  hand  was  presently  found  to  wield  it  with  thew 
and  sinew,  A  peasant's  vigour  and  a  peasant's  shrewd- 
ness accomplished  the  arduous  task,  and  we  reach  in 
him  the  earliest  didactic  poet  of  the  Occident.  Hesiod 
of  Ascra,  in  Boeotia,  flourished  in  the  eighth  century  B.C. 
He  sprang  from  a  soil  where  the  air  was  less  bright 
than  in  the  rest  of  Greece,  and  man's  heart  was  less  light 
in  his  breast.  His  intellect  was  clear  but  clumsy ;  he 
was  versed  in  the  management  of  house  and  field,  and 
was  not  a  stranger  to  lawsuits.  His  imaginative 
powers  were  of  comparatively  restricted  range,  and  his 
disposition  was  yet  more  unyielding.  A  Roman  among 
Greeks,  the  author  of  "  Works  and  Days  "  was  distinguished 
by  sober  sensibilities,  by  a  strict  love  of  order,  and  by 
the  parsimonious  thrift  of  a  good  business  man  trained 
in  the  manufacture  of  smooth  account-books,  averse  from 
any  hint  of  contradiction,  and  shy  of  all  superfluity. 
It  is  in  this  spirit,  so  to  speak,  that  he  took  an  inventory 
of  Olympus,  fitting  each  of  the  Immortals  in  the  frame- 
work of  his  system  by  the  genealogical  clamps.  He 
pruned  the  luxuriance  of  epic  poetry,  reviving  the  im- 
memorial but  dimly  understood  traditions  extant  among 
the  lower  orders  of  Greece  without  respect  to  their  claims 
to  beauty.  Thus  his  theogony  comprised  a  complete  and 
comprehensive  picture,  with  but  rare  gleams  of  true 
poetry  and  hardly  a  breath  of  the  genuine  joy  of  life. 
The  names  of  Homer  and  Hesiod  were  coupled  in  remote 
antiquity  as  the  twin  authors  of  Greek  religion.  But  they 
stand,  in  point  of  fact,  in  strong  contrast.  The  unchecked 
imagination  of  Ionian  poets,  which  made  light  of  the 
contradictions  and  diversities  of  legend,  differed  as  widely 
from  the  home-keeping,  methodical  wisdom  of  the  Boeotian 
peasant  as  the  brilliant  insouciance  of  their  noble  audience 
from  the  gloomy  spirit  of  the  meek  hinds  and  farmers 
for  whom  Hesiod's  poems  were  composed. 


HESIOD'S    THEOGONY.  39 

The  "  Theogony  "  is  at  once  a  cosmogony ;  the  "  Origin 
of  the  Gods  "  included  the  origin  of  the  worid.  We  are 
chiefly  concerned  with  the  last  named  of  these  pairs,  and 
may  let  the  poet  speak  for  himself  At  the  beginning,  he 
tells  us,  there  was  Chaos :  then  come  Gaia,  the  broad- 
bosomed  earth,  and  next,  Eros,  loveliest  of  the  gods,  who 
compels  the  senses  of  mortals  and  immortals  alike,  and 
melts  the  strength  of  their  limbs.  Chaos  engendered 
Darkness  and  Black  Night,  and  Air  and  Day — ^ther  and 
Hemera — sprang  from  their  union.  Gaia  first  created 
of  her  own  accord  the  starry  heaven,  the  high  mountains, 
and  Pontus,  the  sea  ;  then,  as  the  bride  of  Uranus,  she 
brought  forth  Oceanus,  the  stream  that  encompasses  the 
earth,  and  a  long  series  of  children,  some  of  them  mighty 
monsters,  and  others  of  an  almost  allegorical  description, 
besides  the  gods  of  the  lightning  called  Cyclopes,  and 
Tethys,  the  great  goddess  of  the  sea.  From  the  marriage 
of  Ocean  and  Tethys  sprang  fountains  and  the  streams. 
The  sun-god,  the  moon-goddess,  and  the  Dawn  were 
born  to  two  other  children  of  Heaven  and  Earth.  Dawn 
is  united  to  her  cousin  Astraeus,  god  of  the  stars,  and  the 
Winds,  the  Morning-star,  and  the  rest  of  the  luminaries 
were  born  of  that  marriage. 

Part  of  this  exposition  is  so  puerile  in  its  simplicity, 
that  hardly  a  word  of  comment  is  required.  "  The  greater 
is  the  author  of  the  less : "  hence  the  mountains  were 
born  of  the  Earth  ;  mighty  Oceanus  and  the  smaller 
streams  and  rivers  stood  in  the  relation  of  father  and 
sons  ;  the  little  Morning-star  was  the  son  of  the  wide- 
spreading  Dawn,  and  the  rest  of  the  stars  were  clearly 
to  be  set  down  as  his  brothers.  It  is  less  obvious 
why  the  Day  should  have  sprung  from  the  Night,  for  the 
opposite  theory  would  have  been  equally  admissible,  and 
an  old  Indian  hymn-writer  actually  poses  the  question 
whether  Day  or  Night  was  created  first.  Still,  liesiod's 
opinion  may  perhaps  be  called  the  more  natural.  Darkness 
appears  to  us  as  a  permanent  state  requiring  no  explana- 
tion ;  light,  at  each  manifestation,  is  due  to  a  special 
event,  whether  it  be  the  rise  of  the  sun,  the  lightning  of 


40  GREEK    THINKERS. 

the  storm-cloud,  or  the  ignition  of  a  flame  by  human 
hand.  So  far,  then,  we  have  merely  had  to  deal  with  the 
earliest  reflections  of  thoughtful  and  bewildered  man. 
These  tell  their  own  story,  but  a  more  attentive  examina- 
tion is  required  when  we  come  to  the  most  important 
part  of  Hesiod's  work,  where  he  discusses  the  origin  of  the 
world. 

The  brief  and  arid  character  of  this  exposition  is  the 
first  point  that  we  notice,  and  it  arouses  our  astonish- 
ment. The  stage-bell  rings,  as  it  were,  and  Chaos, 
Gaia,  and  Eros  appear  as  the  curtain  rises.  No  hint  is 
vouchsafed  as  to  the  reason  of  their  appearance.  A  bare 
"  but  then  "  connects  the  origin  of  Earth  with  the  origin 
of  Chaos.  Not  a  single  syllable  of  explanation  is  given 
of  the  When  and  How  of  this  process,  whether  Earth  was 
born  of  Chaos  or  not,  and  what  were  the  aids  to  birth  ;  and 
the  same  unbroken  silence  is  preserved  on  the  promotion 
of  the  Love-god  to  the  prominent  part  which  he  fills.  Of 
course  one  may  say,  the  principle  of  love  or  generation 
must  have  entered  the  world  before  any  procreation 
could  take  place.  But  why  should  the  didactic  poet  drop 
it  without  a  word,  why  should  he  never  refer  to  that 
function  of  Eros  at  all,  and  why  should  he  rather  disguise 
it,  as  we  plainly  perceive  to  be  the  fact .''  Various  epithets 
are  here  predicated  of  the  Love-god,  and  in  a  later  passage 
he  is  given  a  place  next  to  Himeros — craving — in  the 
train  of  Aphrodite.  But  none  of  these  allusions  recalls  in 
the  remotest  degree  the  mighty,  vitalizing  creative  Being 
who  alone  is  appropriate  in  this  connection,  and  whom  we 
shall  meet  later  on  in  other  cosmogonic  experiments,  where 
the  origin  and  function  of  Eros  come  to  adequate  ex- 
pression. One  thing  is  as  clear  as  noonday.  A  wide  gulf 
is  fixed  between  the  summary  and  superficial  methods  of 
Hesiod's  inquiry  into  origins  and  the  devotion  of  those 
who  applied  the  whole  force  of  their  immature  philosophy 
to  the  solution  of  the  great  enigma.  Hesiod's  system  is 
a  mere  husk  of  thought  which  must  once  have  been  filled 
with  life.  It  has  survived  the  loss  of  its  contents,  just  as 
the  shell  survives  the  shell-fish.      We  seem  to  be  grazine 


THE    CHAOS.  41 

at  a  /wrliis  siccus  of  conceptions,  the  growth  and  develop- 
ment of  which  we  are  no  longer  able  to  watch.  Inference 
has  to  take  the  place  of  direct  observation,  and  a  start 
must  be  made  at  the  terms  the  poet  used,  presumably  with 
but  partial  comprehension.  These  terms  will  help  us  to 
construct  the  process  of  thought  of  which  they  are  the  dead 
deposit.  We  shall  be  assisted  herein  by  the  consideration 
of  kindred  phenomena,  not  merely  in  Greece,  but  in  other 
countries  as  well.  We  have  already  briefly  described  the 
nature  of  Eros,  and  may  now  proceed  to  discuss  the  mean- 
ing of  Chaos. 

Chaos  resembles  empty  space  as  closely  as  the  inexact 
thought  of  primitive  man  approximates  to  the  speculative 
conceptions  of  advanced  philosophers.  Primitive  man 
endeavours  to  imagine  the  primordial  condition  of  things, 
in  all  its  striking  contrast  to  the  world  as  he  knows  it. 
The  earth,  and  all  that  is  therein,  and  the  dome  of  the 
sky  were  not  extant.  All  that  remained  was  a  something- 
stretching  from  the  topmost  heights  to  the  uttermost 
depths,  and  continuing  immeasurably  on  either  side  the 
hollow  emptiness  interposed  between  the  Heaven  and  the 
Earth.  The  Babylonians  called  it  apsu,  "  the  abyss,"  or 
tiainat,  "  the  deep."  The  Scandinavians  knew  it  as  gijumiiga 
gap,  "the  yawning  gap,"  a  term  of  which  the  first  word 
belongs  to  the  same  root  as  the  Greek  Chaos.  This 
gaping  void,  this  abysmal  deep,  was  conceived  as  obscure 
and  dark  simply  because — in  accordance  with  the  principles 
of  this  system — none  of  the  sources  of  light  had  as  yet 
been  put  in  action.  For  the  same  reason,  the  observer 
confined  his  imagination  to  the  depths  rather  than  the 
heights  of  Chaos,  height  and  light  being  hardly  dis- 
tinguishable in  his  mind.  Chaos  filled  the  whole  space 
known  to  or  even  suspected  by  primitive  man.  l-^arth  and 
her  complement — the  dome  of  heaven  with  its  luminaries 
— sufficed  for  his  knowledge  and  his  thought ;  even  his 
vague  and  aspiring  curiosity  was  content  to  flutter  in  those 
limits.  His  intellect  stopped  short  at  the  idea  of  the 
distance  between  heaven  and  earth  stretching  into  the 
infinite.     The  two  other  dimensions  of  space  troubled  him 


42  GREEK    THINKERS. 

scarcely  at  all,  and  whether  he  believed  in  their  finite  or 
infinite  extension  it  would  be  equally  futile  to  inquire. 

Thus  Hesiod's  inventory  included  not  merely  the 
simple  popular  legends  but  also  the  oldest  attempts  at 
speculation.  These  last,  indeed,  are  presented  in  so  rough 
and  incomplete  a  guise  that  his  sparse  allusions  can  only 
acquaint  us  with  the  existence  of  such  attempts  at  his 
time,  and  with  their  barest  and  most  general  outline.  We 
shall  have  to  trust  to  later  accounts  to  discover  their 
contents  more  accurately,  though  our  knowledge  at  the 
best  can  only  be  approximate.  Then,  too,  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  examine  the  standard  of  thought  to  which 
such  experiments  belong.  Meantime,  our  survey  of  Hesiod 
would  be  incomplete  without  a  reference  to  one  side  of 
his  scheme  which  also  bears  a  more  speculative  character. 
Many  of  the  beings  he  presents  to  us,  and  interweaves  in 
his  genealogies,  show  little  or  nothing  of  the  vivid  per- 
sonification which  marks  the  figures  of  simple  popular 
belief.  "Lying  Speeches,"  for  instances,  would  hardly 
impress  any  one  at  first  sight  as  individual  personages. 
Yet  they  are  found  with  "  Toilsome  Labour,"  "  Tearful 
Pains,"  "  Battles,"  and  "  Carnage  "  in  the  enumeration  of 
the  offspring  of  Eris,  or  Strife.  The  experience  is  repeated 
in  the  instance  of  the  children  of  Night.  These  do  not 
merely  include  mythical  figures  of  a  comparatively  life-like 
kind,  such  as  Eris  herself,  Sleep,  Death,  the  Moirse,  or 
goddesses  of  Fate,  and  so  forth,  but  also  blank,  spectral 
personifications,  such  as  "  Deceit "  and  "  Ruinous  Old 
Age."  "  Deceit's  "  title  to  that  place  would  appear  to  rest 
on  its  habit  of  avoiding  the  light  ;  Old  Age  is  promoted 
to  it  on  no  other  ground  than  that  every  untoward  and 
unwelcome  event  seems  appropriate  to  the  region  of  dark- 
ness and  gloom,  very  much  in  the  same  way  as  we  our- 
selves speak  of  "  gloomy  thoughts "  and  "  black  cares." 
No  one  can  exactly  determine  Hesiod's  debt  to  his  pre- 
decessors either  here  or  elsewhere  ;  but  it  is  fair  to  believe 
that  in  such  purely  speculative  excursions  he  was  trusting 
to  his  own  imagination. 


(     43     ) 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   OLD   IONIAN    NATURE-PHILOSOPHERS. 

Before  speculation  could  flourish,  a  considerable  mass  of 
detailed  knowledge  had  to  be  collected.  In  this  respect 
the  Greeks  were  exceptionally  lucky  in  their  inheritance. 
The  cause  of  Greek  science  was  unconsciously  served  by 
the  ancient  Chaldaeans  and  Egyptians.  The  Chaldaeans 
laid  the  foundations  of  astronomy,  when  they  computed 
the  empiric  laws  of  eclipses  in  their  observation  of  the 
courses  of  the  stars  in  the  crystal  sky  of  Mesopotamia.  The 
Egyptians  invented  an  art  which  comprised  the  elements 
of  geometry,  when  they  measured  the  ploughland,  alter- 
nately wasted  and  fertilized  by  the  Nile,  in  order  to 
determine  the  amount  of  taxes  it  should  yield.  The 
Greeks  were  ever  the  favourites  of  fortune,  and  here  again 
must  be  recorded  what  is  perhaps  the  chief  instance  of 
their  good  luck.  So  far  as  the  evidence  of  history  extends, 
an  organized  caste  of  priests  and  scholars,  combining  the 
necessary  leisure  with  the  equally  necessary  continuity  of 
tradition,  was  at  all  times  indispensable  to  the  beginnings 
of  scientific  research.  But  its  beginning  and  its  end  in 
such  cases  were  only  too  likely  to  coincide,  for  when 
scientific  doctrines  are  mixed  up  with  religious  tenets,  the 
same  lifeless  dogmatism  will  commonly  benumb  them  both. 
The  child's  indispensable  leading-strings  become  an  in- 
tolerable chain  when  the  child  has  grown  to  manhood. 
Thus  we  may  account  it  a  double  blessing  for  the  free 
progress  of  thought  among  the  Greeks  that  their  pre- 
decessors in  civilization  possessed  an  organized  priest- 
hood, and  that  they  themselves  lacked  it.       The  pioneers 


44  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  human  knowledge  had  all  the  advantages  without  any 
of  the  disadvantages  derived  from  the  existence  of  a 
learned  priesthood  in  their  midst.  Supported  on  the 
shoulders  of  Egypt  and  Babylon,  the  genius  of  Greece 
could  take  wing  without  check  or  restraint,  and  could 
venture  on  a  flight  that  was  to  lead  it  to  the  highest 
attainable  goals.  The  relation  between  the  Greeks  and 
their  forebears  in  the  work  of  civilization,  between  the 
authors  of  true  generalizing  science  and  the  purveyors 
and  preparers  of  the  necessary  raw  material,  recalls 
Goethe's  picture  of  himself  as  a  citizen  of  the  world, 
between  a  prophet  on  the  right  hand  and  a  prophet  on 
the  left. 

Two  series  of  effects  are  to  be  traced  from  the  extension 
of  natural  science  and  of  human  dominion  over  nature 
acquired  by  the  Greeks  in  these  centuries.  Take  the 
religious  sphere  first.  The  conception  of  the  universe  as 
a  playground  of  innumerable  capricious  and  counteracting 
manifestations  of  Will  was  more  and  more  undermined. 
The  subordination  of  the  many  separate  deities  to  the 
supreme  will  of  a  single  arbiter  of  destiny  was  here  the 
expression  of  the  steady  growth  of  man's  insight  into 
the  regularity  of  natural  phenomena.  Polytheism  inclined 
more  and  more  to  monotheism,  and  we  shall  later  have  to 
deal  with  the  gradual  phases  of  this  transformation.  But 
the  better  knowledge  and  closer  observation  of  the  pro- 
cesses of  nature  led  at  the  same  time  to  speculations  on 
the  constitution  of  material  factors  ;  the  eye  of  the  student 
of  nature  was  no  longer  exclusively  occupied  with  the 
world  of  gods,  spirits,  and  demons.  Cosmogony  began  to 
free  itself  from  theogony,  and  the  problem  of  matter 
emerged  into  the  foreground  of  men's  thoughts.  They 
began  to  wonder  if  matter  existed  in  as  many  separate 
kinds  as  the  difference  of  material  things  suggested  to 
their  senses,  or  if,  on  the  contrary,  it  were  possible  that 
this  endless  variety  could  be  reduced  to  a  smaller,  perhaps 
a  very  small,  number,  if  not  to  unity  itself.  They  observed 
that  the  plants,  which  depend  for  their  nourishment  on 
earth,  air,   and   water,   serve   animals   for   nourishment   in 


THE    PROBLEM  OF  MATTER.  45 

their  turn  ;    they  observed  that  animal  excretions  helped 
to  nourish  the  plants,  and    that   both  are  finally  resolved 
into  earth,  air,  and  water  once  more.     So  they  would  ask 
if  these  beings  in  their  steady  circular  course  were  really 
of  alien  nature,  or  if  they  were  not  rather  mere  variations 
of  originally  homogeneous  substances — nay,  it  might  be  of 
a  single  substance.     The  world,  they  would  go  on  to  con- 
jecture, instead  of  springing  from  chaos,  might  have  come 
from  some  such  single  substance    and  might  return  to  it 
again,  and    they  would   look  for  a  general  rule  by  ^\^hich 
to  characterize  the   series  of   the  variations  of  form   that 
they  observed.     Such  were  the  questions  which  began  to 
occupy  the  mind  of  the  more  profound   thinkers  familiar 
with    the    beginnings    of    positive     science.      Even    the 
Homeric  poems    are    not   absolutely  free   from   traces    of 
similar    speculation.      Take    the    passages,    for    instance, 
where  earth   and   water   are   mentioned    as   the   elements 
into  which  the  human  body  is  dissolved  ;    or,  better  still, 
take    the    references    to    Oceanus    as    the    source    of    all 
things,  and   to   the   derivation    of  all   the  gods   from  the 
marriage  of  Oceanus  with  Tethys,  goddess  of  the  seas.    The 
last  strains  of  immemorial  fetishism  and   the  overture  of 
positive  philosophy  are  combined  in  those  passages.     Now, 
however,    a    stricter    method    supervenes.      The    veil    of 
mythology    was    rent    and    the    ideas   were    pressed    with 
ruthless  consistency  to  their  utmost  logical  content.     Two 
of    the    corner-stones    of    modern    chemistry — the    exist- 
ence of  elements,  and  the  indestructibility  of  matter — now 
come   into   sight :    each    is    important    in    itself,  and    their 
importance  is  doubled  in  combination.     A  twofold   series 
of  considerations  led  to  the  belief  in  the  indestructibility 
of  matter.     Matter  was  seen  to  emerge  unhurt  from   the 
manifold  phases  of  the  course  of  organic  life,  and  it  was 
by  no   means  a  long   step   to   the   conjecture   that   matter 
could  not  be  destroyed,  and  that  its  annihilation  was  never 
more    than    apparent.       Moreover,    a    keener    observation 
refuted  the  theory  of  absolute  destruction,  in  the  sense  of 
a   reduction   to   nothing,  in    instances   which    afforded    the 
strongest  presumption  in  its  favour.     When  boiling  water 


46  GREEK    THINKERS. 

dried  up,  or  when  solid  bodies  were  burnt,  there  was  seen 
to  remain  a  residue  of  steam,  smoke,  or  ashes.  Here,  then, 
we  find  that  genius  anticipated  science.  The  full  truth  of 
these  doctrines  was  not  finally  established  till  the  great 
era  of  chemistry  in  the  eighteenth  century,  led  by  Lavoisier 
with  the  balance  in  his  hand.  At  another  point  the 
"physiologists"  of  Ionia  actually  outstripped  the  results  of 
modern  knowledge.  The  bold  flight  of  their  imagination 
did  not  stop  at  the  assumption  of  a  plurality  of  indestruc- 
tible elements  ;  it  never  rested  till  it  reached  the  concep- 
tion of  a  single  fundamental  or  primordial  matter  as  the 
source  of  material  diversity.  Here  it  may  almost  be  said 
that  inexperience  was  the  mother  of  wisdom.  The  impulse 
to  simplification,  when  it  had  once  been  aroused,  was  like 
a  stone  set  in  motion  which  rolls  continuously  till  it  is 
checked  by  an  obstacle.  It  advanced  from  infinity  to 
plurality,  from  plurality  to  unity  ;  no  inconvenient  facts 
could  place  impediments  in  its  path,  nor  could  call  a 
peremptory  halt.  Thus  the  impetuous  uninstructed  sense 
of  that  early  epoch  attained  an  intuition  which  is  just 
beginning  to  dawn  through  countless  doubts  and  difficulties 
on  our  own  mature  and  enlightened  knowledge.  Once 
more  the  belief  is  breaking  on  the  most  illustrious  of 
modern  philosophers  that  the  seventy-odd  elements 
reckoned  by  chemistry  to-day  are  not  the  ultimate  destina- 
tion in  the  journey  of  that  science,  but  are  merely  a  stage 
in  its  progress  towards  the  final  decomposition  of  matter. 

2.  Thales  of  Miletus  is  regarded  as  the  forefather  of  this 
whole  line  of  philosophers.  This  remarkable  man  was  the 
product  of  a  mixture  of  races  ;  Greek,  Carian,  and  Phoeni- 
cian blood  flowed  in  his  veins.  He  was  accordingly  a  type 
of  the  peculiar  many-sidedness  of  Ionian  descent,  and  his 
image  flashes  on  our  eyes  in  the  most  varied  colours  of 
tradition.  Now  he  appears  as  the  embodiment  of  the  remote 
and  contemplative  sage,  who  tumbles  headlong  in  the  well 
while  gazing  at  the  stars  of  heaven  ;  now  he  is  represented 
as  turning  his  knowledge  to  his  private  advantage  ;  and  in 
a  third  version  we  see  him  offering  his  fellow-countrymen, 
the  lonians  of  Asia  Minor,  counsels  of  extraordinary  political 


THALES    OF  MILETUS.  47 

acumen    directed    to    the    creation   of   a    federal    state — a 
conception    absolutely  novel  to   the    Greeks   of  that  age. 
Indisputably  he  combined    the  roles  of  merchant,  states- 
man, engineer,  mathematician,  and  astronomer.     He  owed 
his  rich  intellectual  training  to  travel  in  distant  parts.     He 
had  been  as  far  as  Egypt,  where  he  devoted  himself,  among 
other  problems,  to  that  of  the  rise  of  the  Nile.     He  was  the 
first  to  raise  the  clumsy  methods  of  land-surveying  current 
among  the  Egyptians,  and  directed  merely  to  the  require- 
ments of  single  cases,  into  a  deductive  science  of  geometry 
resting  on  general  principles,  and  his  name  is  still   given 
to  one  of  the  most  elementary  geometrical  demonstrations. 
We  may  readily  credit  the  tradition   that  Thales  supplied 
his  Egyptian  masters  with  the  method  they  had  sought  in 
vain  of  computing  the  height  of  the  towering  pyramids  which 
are  the  wonders  of  their  home.     He  pointed  out  to  them 
that  at  the  time  of  day  when  a  man's  shadow — or  that  of 
any  other  object  presenting  no  difficulty  to  mensuration — 
is  exactly  equal  to  the  size  of  the  original,  then,  too,  the 
shadow  of  the  pyramid  can  neither  be  longer  nor  shorter 
than    its   actual    height.      He    had    probably    familiarized 
himself  in  Sardis  with  the  elements  of  Babylonian  wisdom, 
and   he   borrowed    from   it  the  law  of  the   periodicity  of 
eclipses,  which  enabled  him  to  foretell  the  total  eclipse  of 
the  sun  on  May  28,  585  B.C.,  to  the  utmost  astonishment 
of  his  fellow-countrymen.     It  is  impossible  that  he  could 
have  reached  this  insight  on  theoretical  lines,  for  he  was 
still  dominated  by  the  old  childish  conception  of  the  earth 
as  a  flat  disc  resting  on  the  water.     His  weather  prognos- 
tications were  probably  derived  from  the  same  source.     He 
turned  them  to  commercial  uses,  and  would  hire  a  number 
of   oil-presses    in    order   to    exploit    his    advantage    if    he 
happened  to  foresee  an  exceptional  harvest    in    the    olive 
gardens.     The   knowledge  of  astronomy  he   acquired    was 
put  at  the  disposal  of  the  seafarers,  for  his  fellow-country- 
men practised  commerce  and  navigation  more  extensively 
than    any    of   their    contemporaries.       He    directed    their 
attention    to   the    Little   Bear    as   the   constellation    which 
most  precisely  marks  the  north.     It  is  doubtful  if  he  wrote 


4^  GREEK   THINKERS. 

books,  but  his  doctrine  of  primary  matter  can  hardly  have 
been  pubh'shed  by  that  means.  Aristotle,  at  least,  though 
acquainted  with  it,  is  plainly  at  a  loss  to  know  how  Thales 
supported  it,  and  approaches  his  reasons  from  a  conjec- 
tural point  of  view.  The  food  of  the  animal  and  vegetable 
world  being  damp,  organic  warmth  has  its  origin  in  damp- 
ness ;  further,  the  same  quality  is  displayed  by  vegetable 
and  animal  seeds.  On  this  account,  according  to  Aristotle, 
Thales  would  have  regarded  water,  the  principle  of  all  damp- 
ness, as  the  primary  element.  But  whether  or  not  Thales 
was  actually  influenced  by  such  considerations,  whether  or 
not  he  was  affected  by  older  speculations,  both  native  and 
foreign,  and  to  what  extent,  if  at  all,  he  was  dependent 
on  them,  is  as  much  a  riddle  to  us,  at  the  present  date  at 
least,  as  his  attitude  towards  things  theological. 

The  doctrine  of  primary  matter  admitted  and  required 
extension  on  three  several  lines.     First,  the  rank  assigned 
by  Thales  to  water  in  the  precedence  of  matter  could  not 
remain  unassailed.     Air  as  the  most  volatile,  and  fire  as 
the  most  powerful,  of  the  widest-spread  elements,  would 
inevitably   find   advocates   to   contest   the   prominence   to 
which  the  fluid  element  was  promoted.     Secondly,  it  would 
occur  to  some  reflective  and  far-sighted  genius  that  it  was 
vain  to  look  for  the  primordial  form  of  matter  in  the  circle 
of  its  present  and  visible  manifestations,  but  that  it  was 
necessary  to  go  behind  and  beyond   them.      Lastly,  the 
theory  of  a  primary  element  contained  a  germ  of  scepticism 
which  was  destined  sooner  or  later  to  come  to  maturity  of 
growth.      Thales   might   be   content  to  conclude  that   all 
things  proceed  from  water  and  return  to  it  again,  but  his 
doctrine  was  obviously  liable  to  be  expanded  in  course  of 
time  into  the  contention  that  the  primary  form  of  matter 
was  its  only  true  and  real  shape,  and  that  the  rest  were 
mere  delusions.     And  if  it  were  once  believed  that  wood 
and  iron,  for  example,  were  not  wood  and  iron,  but  water 
or  air,  there  was  not  the  remotest  reason  why  the  suspicion 
of  the  evidence  of  sense  should  make  a  pause  at  that  point. 
3.  Anaximander,  who  was  born   in  610  B.C.,  followed 
the  second  of  these  lines  of  thought.     He  was  the  son  of 


ANAXIMANDER    OF  MILETUS.  49 

Praxiades,  and,  like  Thales,  a  native  of  Miletus,  and  may 
well  have  been  his  friend  and  disciple.  We  may  fairly  look 
on  Anaximander  as  the  author  of  the  natural  philosophy  of 
Greece,  and  consequently  of  the  Occident.  He  was  the 
first  to  attempt  to  introduce  a  scientific  method  in  answer- 
ing the  vast  questions  as  to  the  origin  of  the  universe,  the 
earth,  and  its  inhabitants.  He  had  an  extraordinary  sense 
for  identity,  a  remarkable  faculty  for  recognizing  elusive 
analogies,  and  an  impressive  talent  for  inferring  the  imper- 
ceptible from  the  perceptible.  Childish  as  some  of  his 
endeavours  were  to  grope  out  the  way  of  nature,  yet  his 
merits  as  a  pioneer  and  a  path-finder  command  our  awe  and 
respect.  Unfortunately,  we  have  frequently  to  depend  on 
scanty,  detached,  and  partly  contradictory  reports  for  our 
knowledge  of  his  ideas.  His  work  on  "  Nature "  is  the 
first  account  of  scientific  doctrines  which  we  know  of  in 
Greek  prose,  and  this  monument  of  a  life  devoted  to  deep 
reflection  and  occupied  partly  with  affairs  of  state,  suffered 
untimely  loss.  Anaximander  did  not  decide  to  publish  it 
till  shortly  before  his  death  at  the  age  of  sixty-three. 
Manifold  and  eminently  meritorious  were  the  preliminary 
labours  which  were  crowned  by  this  latest  production,  of 
which  but  a  few  lines  have  reached  us,  with  no  sentence 
entire.  Anaximander  first  gave  the  Greeks  a  map  of  the 
earth  and  a  globe  of  the  sky.  Though  his  name  was  not 
illustrious  in  the  annals  of  travel,  yet  his  map  comprised 
the  researches  of  all  the  travellers  who  returned  from  their 
voyages  over  land  and  sea  to  his  Ionian  home,  which  en- 
joyed exceptional  advantages  as  the  centre  of  the  tourists' 
world.  Ancient  Egypt  had  not  been  ignorant  of  the  art 
of  map-making,  but  the  practice  had  been  confined  to  the 
graphic  reproduction  of  separate  districts.  The  dwellers  in 
the  valley  of  the  Nile  had  never  conceived  the  thought  of  a 
general  map  of  the  world,  nor  indeed  were  their  unfamiliarity 
with  the  sea  and  their  lack  of  distant  colonics  adapted 
to  the  collection  of  the  necessary  material.  We  are  told 
that  a  characteristic  feature  of  Anaximandcr's  chart  of  the 
world  was  the  assumption  of  a  sea-basin  surrounded  by 
land,  and  again  of  an  outer  sea  encircling  the  earth  with 
VOL.  I.  E 


so  GREEK    THINKERS. 

a  girdle.  Doubtless  the  father  of  scientific  geography  was 
acquainted  with  the  Babylonian  invention  of  the  gnomon, 
or  pointer,  as  a  means  to  mathematical  and  astronomical 
mensuration.  The  pointer  rested  on  a  horizontal  basis, 
and  the  length  of  its  shadow,  varying  with  the  hours  and 
seasons,  served  to  determine  the  true  meridian  of  any 
given  locality,  and  to  discover  the  four  cardinal  points  and 
the  winter  and  summer  solstices.  Anaximander,  or  his 
successor  Anaximenes — the  tradition  halts  between  their 
names — is  said  to  have  set  up  a  gnomon  of  this  kind  in 
Sparta,  The  history  of  science  does  not  recognize  our 
philosopher  as  the  author  of  new  mathematical  doctrines, 
though  it  credits  him  with  a  systematic  exposition  of  geo- 
metry. But  at  least  he  cannot  be  written  down  as  lacking 
mathematical  training ;  his  accounts  of  the  size  of  the 
heavenly  bodies,  though  hardly  intelligible  at  this  date, 
afford  good  evidence  to  the  contrary.  As  an  astronomer, 
our  Milesian  was  the  first  to  make  a  well-nigh  complete 
breach  with  the  puerile  conceptions  of  antiquity.  If  he 
still  failed  to  conceive  the  earth  as  a  globe,  he  was  equally 
far  from  imagining  it  as  a  flat  disc,  resting  on  a  basis 
and  covered  by  the  bell-like  vault  of  heaven.  He  did  not 
represent  the  sun  as  sinking  every  night  into  Oceanus 
that  flowed  round  the  earth,  nor  yet  as  following  in  its 
channel  from  the  west  to  the  east.  If  some  steady  and 
regular  movement  was  to  account  for  the  fact  that  the 
sun  and  the  rest  of  the  stars,  after  they  had  set  in  the 
west,  rose  once  more  in  the  east,  Anaximander  was  com- 
pelled to  suppose  that  they  continued  underground  the 
revolving  movement  which  we  watch  above  the  horizon. 
His  supposition  was  supported  by  the  observation  that 
the  constellations  next  to  the  pole  never  set,  but  describe 
a  revolution.  Hence  the  heavenly  hemisphere  that  we  see 
must  actually  form  a  half  of  a  complete  sphere.  The  dome 
of  heaven  stretched  above  our  heads  was  perfected  by  a 
complementary  dome  beneath  our  feet.  Earth  was  deprived 
of  the  basis  stretching  to  unfathomed  depths  on  which  she 
should  have  been  supported,  and  was  left  free  to  float  in 
space.     The  pancake  theory  was  abandoned  in  favour  of  a 


ASTRONOMER   AND    COSMOGONIST.  5  I 

columnar  or  cylindrical  earth,  with  its  equilibrium  guaran- 
teed by  the  condition  of  a  base-diameter  longer  than  the 
measure  of  its  height.  The  proportion  of  three  to  one, 
which  fulfilled  that  condition,  probably  commended  itself 
to  the  ancient  philosopher  by  its  simplicity.  But  he  em- 
ployed a  remarkable  argument  to  explain  the  equipoise 
of  the  drum-shaped  earth,  ascribing  its  undistracted  condi- 
tion to  the  equal  distance  it  maintained  from  all  parts  of 
the  heavenly  vault.  This  doctrine  commits  the  Milesian 
philosopher  to  two  opinions :  on  the  one  hand,  gravity 
cannot  have  been  identified  by  him  with  a  downward 
tendency  ;  on  the  other  hand,  he  is  obviously  a  precursor 
of  that  school  of  metaphysicians  who  preferred  to  base  the 
law  of  inertia  on  ct  priori  grounds  rather  than  on  expe- 
rience. It  has  been  said  that  a  body  at  rest  could  not 
begin  to  move  except  by  the  impulse  of  some  outside 
cause,  for  if  it  did  it  would  have  to  move  either  up  or 
down,  or  forwards  or  backwards.  But  as  there  was  no 
reason  why  it  should  do  the  one  rather  than  the  other, 
therefore  it  did  not  move  at  all.  Thus  Aristotle,  who 
called  the  argument  of  this  ancient  philosopher  a  brilliant 
mistake,  compared  Anaximander's  earth  at  rest  to  a  hungry 
man  who  would  have  to  starve  because  he  had  no  reason 
to  stretch  his  hand  to  the  right  rather  than  to  the  left,  in 
front  of  him  rather  than  behind  him,  in  order  to  reach  the 
food  disposed  at  equal  distances  all  round.  For  the  present, 
however,  we  must  turn  our  attention  to  Anaximander's 
attempts  at  cosmogony. 

Hesiod's  theogony  has  already  made  us  acquainted  with 
the  immemorial  conception  of  the  universe  beginning 
in  chaos.  We  saw  that  the  idea  of  chaos  was  produced  by 
the  endless  extension  of  the  void  yawning  between  heaven 
and  earth.  We  saw,  too,  that  those  early  philosophers  took 
account  of  one  only  of  the  three  dimensions  of  space — 
height  or  depth  —  without  respect  to  its  relation  with 
length  and  breadth.  This  conception,  logically  followed 
out,  put  space,  unbounded  in  all  directions,  in  the  place 
of  the  gaping  chasm,  and  such  space,  filled  with  matter, 
was     what    Anaximander's    theory    started     from.    .  But 


52  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  question  arose,  What  was  this  primary  matter  ex- 
tended in  infinite  space  ?  We  can  state  at  once  that  it 
was  no  matter  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  Such  forms 
of  matter,  with  their  constant  fusion  and  re-emergence, 
were  regarded  by  Anaximander  as  factors  of  equal  value 
and  rights,  and  he  would  certainly  not  have  promoted  any 
one  of  them  to  be  the  author  or  progenitor  of  the  rest.  And 
of  all  the  unsuitable  candidates  for  that  post  the  elemental 
water  of  Thales  must  have  appeared  to  him  to  be  the  worst. 
Its  very  existence  required  the  presumption  of  warmth, 
which,  according  to  the  philosophy  of  that  age,  was  caloric 
matter,  or  fire.  For  solids  are  changed  to  fluids  by  melt- 
ing, that  is,  by  the  application  of  heat  or  caloric  matter. 
Similarly  air-substances,  such  as  steam,  are  produced  by 
the  action  of  fire  on  fluids.  Thus  the  solid  and  the  fiery 
seemed  to  be  solely  qualified  to  lead  off  the  line  of  indi- 
vidual conceptions.  And  the  very  contrast  between  the 
two  caused  them  to  be  looked  on  as  a  united  pair,  the 
complementary  members  of  which  had  come  simultaneously 
to  existence.  Thus  they  actually  figure  in  Anaximander 
as  "the  cold"  and  "the  warm,"  and  he  set  them  down  to 
a  process  of  "  differentiation  "  from  the  original  primary 
matter  which  comprised  all  material  variations.  But  we 
are  not  acquainted  with  his  further  ideas  on  the  origin  of 
the  endless, series  of  separate  substances.  We  can  merely 
conjecture  that  a  progressive  "  differentiation "  from  the 
fundamental  forms  of  matter  was  supposed  to  continue 
the  process  just  described.  But  however  that  may  have 
been,  the  substances  were  at  least  arranged  about  and 
above  one  another  in  the  order  of  their  weight  and  density. 
The  earth  was  the  innermost  kernel  ;  its  surface  was 
covered  by  water ;  next  came  a  layer  of  air ;  and  the 
whole  was  enclosed  by  a  ring  of  fire,  as  "the  tree  by  its 
bark."  At  this  point  a  twofold  problem  obtruded  itself  on 
the  orderly  mind  of  Anaximander.  He  saw  that  the  earth 
still  formed  the  kernel  of  the  structure,  with  the  air  as  its 
outer  raiment,  but  there  was  no  longer  a  uniform  covering 
of  water,  and  fire  was  merely  visible  at  separate  points  of 
the   sky,  though   these   indeed   were   innumerable.     So  he 


ANAXIMANDER'S   COSMOGONY.  53 

began  to  ask  whence  arose  this  disturbance  of  the  pri- 
mordial uniform  programme  for  the  distribution  of  matter. 
His  answer  took  shape  as  follows :  The  existing  sea  was 
merely  a  residue  of  the  original  roof  of  water,  the  content 
of  the  sea  having  been  reduced  in  course  of  time  by 
the  evaporating  action  of  the  sun.  His  assumption  was 
supported  by  the  evidence  of  geology,  which  plainly  showed 
that  the  sea  had  retreated  at  many  points  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean basin.  Whether  he  relied  on  the  formation  of 
deltas  or  on  the  discovery  of  sea-shells  on  dry  land, 
Anaximander  drew  the  most  far-reaching  conclusions  in 
support  of  his  doctrine  from  phenomena  of  that  kind.  As 
to  the  ring  of  fire,  he  believed  that  it  burst  at  some  time, 
doubtless  by  the  violent  dislocation  of  masses  on  the 
principle  of  the  sling-stone,  a  theory  which  reminds  us  of 
the  doctrine  of  Kant  and  Laplace.  Our  philosopher 
would  obviously  have  been  acquainted  with  the  operation 
of  centrifugal  force,  by  watching  the  games  of  children 
and  the  use  of  sling-stones  in  war.  He  would  have  noticed 
that  the  centrifugal  force  operated  with  greater  intensity 
in  proportion  to  the  larger  size  of  the  stone  slung  at  the 
end  of  the  line.  Hence  he  seems  to  have  concluded 
that,  taking  the  earth  as  the  centre  of  the  world,  the  great 
mass  of  the  sun  had  been  flung  to  the  furthest  distance  ; 
next,  at  a  lesser  distance,  the  smaller  mass  of  the  moon  ; 
and,  nearest  of  all,  the  little  stars  in  their  order,  planets 
and  fixed  stars  alike.  But  Anaximander's  imagination  did 
not  stop  at  this  point.  He  thought  that  masses  of  air 
were  torn  away  by  the  same  force,  that  they  became  con- 
gealed in  the  process,  and  closed  on  the  masses  of  fire. 
These  husks  of  air,  so  to  speak,  with  tlicir  fiery  contents 
inside,  he  conceived  in  the  appearance  of  wheels,  provided 
with  openings  like  the  mouth  of  a  bellows,  from  which  a 
constant  stream  of  fire  issued.  One  wonders  how  he 
reached  this  conception,  and  a  conjectural  answer  may  be 
given  as  follows  :  sun,  moon,  and  stars  revolved  round  the 
earth,  but  while  there  was  no  known  analogy  for  the 
regular  revolution  in  space  of  masses  of  fire,  the  rotation 
of   wheels    was    a    matter    of  daily    observation.     Thus, 


54  GREEK   THINKERS. 

concrete  objects  took  the  place  of  abstract  orbits,  and  the 
difficulty  of  the  problem  was  very  considerably  reduced. 
As  long  as  the  wheels  existed,  and  their  motory  impulse 
lasted,  the  rotation  of  the  stars  was  assured.  Finally, 
Anaximander  explained  the  eclipses  of  the  sun  and  moon 
by  temporary  obstructions  in  the  orifices  of  the  sun-wheel 
and  the  moon-wheel. 

The  ingenuity  of  the  philosopher  of  Miletus  was  like- 
wise devoted  to  the  problem  of  organic  creation.  He 
conceived  the  first  animals  to  have  sprung  from  sea- 
slime,  presumably  because  the  animal  body  is  composed 
of  solid  and  fluid  elements.  Hence,  as  we  saw  in  the 
Homeric  poems,  water  and  earth  were  supposed  to  be  its 
elements.  But  the  presumption  may  have  been  strengthened 
by  the  wealth  of  all  kinds  of  life  contained  in  the  sea,  not 
to  mention  the  discovery  of  the  remains  of  pre-historic 
marine  monsters.  Further,  Anaximander  attributed  to 
those  primeval  animals  a  bristly  integument,  which  they 
cast  at  the  transition  from  sea  to  land  ;  it  is  likely  enough 
that  the  analogous  change  sustained  by  some  insect  larvae 
may  have  led  him  to  this  hypothesis.  We  can  hardly 
doubt  that  he  traced  the  forefathers  of  terrestrial  fauna 
from  the  descendants  of  these  marine  animals,  thus 
obtaining  a  first  vague  glimpse  of  the  modern  theory  of 
evolution.  His  statements  on  the  origin  of  human  species 
were  more  definite.  Mythology  represented  the  earliest 
men  as  having  sprung  directly  from  the  earth,  but  Anaxi- 
mander found  the  following  objection  to  the  adoption  of 
that  theory.  The  helpless  human  infant,  who  requires 
more  lasting  attention  than  any  other  species  of  being, 
cou.  lever  have  kept  himself  alive — at  least,  by  natural 
means.  So  our  philosopher  looked  for  analogies  to 
facilitate  the  reading  of  this  riddle.  He  found  his  best 
counsellor  in  the  shark,  who  was  popularly  believed  to 
swallow  her  young  when  they  crept  out  of  their  shell,  to 
vomit  them  forth  and  swallow  them  again,  and  go  on 
repeating  the  process  till  the  young  animal  was  strong 
enough  to  support  an  independent  existence.  Similarly, 
he    supposed  that    the   ancestors   of  the  human  race  had 


/ 


COSMIC  PERIODS.  55 

their  origin  in  the  bellies  of  fish,  and  did  not  quit  that 
habitation  till  they  had  reached  full  vigour.  Possibly 
Anaximander  was  influenced  in  this  belief  by  the  old 
Babylonian  theory  of  a  primeval  race  of  fish-men,  but  that,  /        ^ 

at  least,  we  cannot  assert  with  confidence.  ' 

But,  whatever  his  views  of  the  origin  of  separate  worlds,  , 
separate  forms  of  matter,  and  separate  beings  and  substances  / 
may  have  been,  one  point,  at  any  rate,  does  not  admit  of  the 
least  doubt.  He  was  quite  clear  that  every  created  thing  is  ' 
doomed  to  destruction.  Primary  matter  alone,  the  source 
and  destination  of  all  life,  he  regarded  as  "without  begin-  ^ 
ning  and  without  end."  And  his  conviction  afforded  him  \ 
a  satisfaction  which  we  may  characterize  as  a  moral  or  \ 
religious  sentiment.  Each  separate  existence  he  regarded 
as  an  iniquity,  a  usurpation,  for  which  the  clashing  and 
mutually  exterminating  forms  of  life  would  "  suffer  atone- 
ment and  penalty  in  the  ordinance  of  time."  All  single 
substances  were  destructible,  all  forms  of  life  decomposed  and 
died,  and  Anaximander  extended  these  material  processes 
to  a  comprehensive  natural  order  which  transformed  itself 
in  his  mind  to  a  comprehensive  order  of  justice.  He  might 
have  cried  with  Mephistopheles  that  "all  that  hath  exist- 
ence is  worthy  to  decay."  Nothing  seemed  to  him  "divine  " 
but  Matter,  the  repository  of  force,  dateless,  "  eternal  and 
unaging."  Divine,  too,  in  his  conception  were  the  separate 
worlds  or  heavens,  but  their  divinity  was  limited  by  the 
fact  that,  having  been  created,  they  were  liable  to  decay, 
and  they  ranked  as  gods  of  an  inferior  order,  as  it  were, 
who  could  count  on  a  protracted  life  in  succession  to,  if 
not  in  co-existence  with,  one  another,  but  whose  life  at  the 
best  was  but  temporal.  We  are  not  told  by  what  pr-^'-'^sses 
they  returned  again  and  again  to  the  womb  of  pumary 
matter,  but  we  may  conjecture  that  such  processes  were 
connected  with  the  principle  of  differentiation.  We  saw  that 
"differentiation"  was  responsible  for  the  origin  of  the  worlds, 
and  their  separate  existence  was  doubtless  put  an  end  to  in 
the  course  of  long  cosmic  periods  by  fresh  admixtures  and 
combinations  of  their  elements.  Everything  would  be 
gradually    brought    back    to  the   undivided    unity   of  the 


56  GREEK   THINKERS. 

original  universal  Being,  which  would  thus  prove  its 
inexhaustible  vital  force  by  ever-fresh  transmutations,  and 
would  realize  its  invincible  supremacy  in  ever-fresh  acts 
of  destruction. 

4.  Anaximenes,  son  of  Eurystratos,  the  third  great 
citizen  of  Miletus,  who  died  between  528  and  524  B.C., 
walked  in  the  footsteps  of  Thales.  He  substituted  air  for 
water  as  the  primary  principle  which  engendered  "  all  that 
was,  that  is,  and  that  shall  be."  So  completely  did  air 
succeed  to  the  inheritance  of  the  discredited  element  that 
Anaximenes  conceived  it  as  the  basis  of  the  earth,  which 
figured  once  again  as  a  flat  disc.  Nor  is  it  hard  to  explain 
the  preference  shown  to  air.  Its  greater  mobility  and  its 
greater  extension  doubtless  prompted  its  choice  instead  of 
the  fluid  element.  The  first  of  these  qualities  was  ex- 
pressly mentioned  by  Anaximenes  himself  in  the  sole 
fragment  of  his  work  that  we  possess,  composed,  we  are 
told,  in  "  simple  unadorned  "  prose.  Matter,  we  remember, 
in  the  doctrine  of  all  these  philosophers — the  so-called 
Ionian  physiologists — was  commonly  supposed  to  contain 
in  itself  the  cause  of  its  own  motion,  and  nothing  could 
be  more  natural  than  that  precedence  should  be  given  to 
its  more  mobile  form,  the  form  that  ranks  in  organic  life 
as  the  vehicle  of  vital  and  psychic  force,  in  which  con- 
nection it  is  useful  to  recall  that  "  psyche,"  or  soul,  signifies 
"  breath."  Anaximenes  himself  compared  the  breath  of 
life  with  the  air.  The  one,  as  he  believed,  held  together 
human  and  animal  life,  and  the  other  composed  the  world 
to  unity.  When  he  came  to  the  question  of  its  extension, 
he  had  merely  to  imagine  earth,  water,  and  fire  as  islands 
in  an  ocean  of  air  which  spread  about  them  on  all  sides, 
penetrating  all  the  pores  and  interstices  of  the  rest  of 
material  substances,  and  bathing  their  smallest  particles. 
Like  his  predecessor,  Anaximenes  ascribed  to  the  primary 
matter  unlimited  difi"usion  and  incessant  motion.  But  the 
process  by  which  he  derived  from  it  other  material  sub- 
stances rested  in  his  argument,  not  on  speculative  imagina- 
tion, but  on  actual  observation.  He  was  the  first  to  pro- 
claim as  the  ultimate  reason  of  all  material  transformation 


ANAXIMENES   OF  MILETUS. 


57 


a  "  true  cause,"  a  vera  causa  in  Newton's  sense  of  the  words, 
and  thereon  rests  his  title  to  immortaHty.  He  did  not 
follow  Anaximander  in  deriving  "  the  warm "  and  "  the 
cold "  from  primary  matter  by  the  enigmatic  process  of 
"  differentiation,"  but  he  ascribed  the  separation  of  material 
substances  to  Condensation  and  Rarefaction,  or  differences 
of  proximity  and  distance  in  the  particles.  When  most 
evenly  diffused — in  its  normal  state,  so  to  speak — air  is 
invisible  ;  when  most  finely  diffused  it  becomes  fire,  and 
in  its  progress  towards  condensation  it  becomes  liquid,  and 
finally  solid.  All  substances — we  may  read  into  the  text 
of  the  fragment  from  Anaximenes — are  in  themselves 
capable  of  assuming  each  of  the  three  forms  of  aggrega- 
tion, whether  or  not  we  have  hitherto  succeeded  in 
effecting  the  transformation.  The  importance  of  this 
philosophic  discovery  will  be  obvious  to  every  one,  if  he 
remembers  that  it  was  not  till  a  hundred  years  ago  that 
it  became  the  common  property  of  the  most  advanced 
thinkers,  and  even  then  not  without  a  struggle.  More- 
over, to  read  between  the  lines  of  Anaximenes'  meditations, 
if  our  senses  were  fine  enough,  we  should  recognize  through 
all  these  transformations  the  identical  particles  of  matter 
now  drawing  nearer  to  one  another,  and  now  withdrawing 
to  a  greater  distance.  Thus  his  doctrine  affords  a  foretaste 
of  the  atomic  theory,  a  conception  of  the  material  world 
which,  whether  or  not  it  pronounces  the  last  word  on  the 
subject,  has  at  least  proved  down  to  contemporary  times 
an  invaluable  aid  to  philosophy.  It  detracts  but  little 
from  his  claim  to  immortality  that  Anaximenes  took  the 
trouble  to  support  his  teaching  by  miserably  misunderstood 
experiments.  One  of  these  may  be  mentioned  in  illustra- 
tion :  he  urged  as  a  serious  argument  on  behalf  of  his 
doctrine  that  the  air  of  the  whistle  is  cold,  and  the  air  of 
the  yawn  is  warm. 

The  doctrine  of  matter,  as  we  have  seen,  made  immense 
strides  under  the  comprehensive  induction  of  Anaximenes, 
and  one  might  fairly  expect  that  similar  progress  would 
be  recorded  in  the  instance  of  astronomy.  Unfortunately, 
such  expectation  will  be  disappointed.     Now  for  the  first 


58  GREEK   THINKERS. 

time  we  are  presented  with  a  spectacle  which  the  history 
of  the  sciences  brings  again  and  again  before  our  eyes. 
We  need  not  entirely  defer  to  Mr.  Buckle's  plausible 
view  of  the  essential  opposition  between  the  inductive 
and  the  deductive  methods  ;  but  we  may  fairly  admit 
that  the  representatives  of  either  seldom  or  never  exhibit 
a  talent  for  both.  Turning  from  the  general  to  the 
particular,  it  is  hardly  surprising  to  find  that  Anaxi- 
mander's  temerity  of  thought  left  many  errors  of  fact  for 
his  more  pedestrian  successor  to  fasten  on.  Anaximenes, 
the  successor  in  question,  was  keen-sighted  enough  to 
repudiate  the  puerile  explanation  of  eclipses  by  temporary 
obstructions  in  the  sun-wheel  and  moon-wheel ;  unluckily, 
he  was  not  far-sighted  enough  to  recognize  the  merits 
and  extend  the  conclusions  of  the  clever  anticipation  of 
the  theory  of  attraction  designed  to  justify  the  equipoise 
of  the  earth.  Thus  his  critical  intellect  and  smaller 
endowment  of  imagination  united  their  qualities  and 
defects,  and  Anaximenes  descended  a  few  paces  from  the 
height  reached  by  his  predecessor.  We  have  already 
mentioned  his  return  to  the  disc-and-basis  conception  of 
the  earth.  Consequently  the  sun  could  not  move  under 
the  earth  at  night,  but  only  sideways  round  it.  Thus, 
in  order  to  account  for  its  invisibility  at  night,  he  was 
reduced  to  suppose  that  it  was  hidden  behind  high 
mountains  in  the  north,  or  that  it  receded  further  from 
the  earth  than  during  the  day.  We  need  not  dwell  on 
the  details  of  his  somewhat  crude  astronomy.  It  was 
partly  redeemed  by  the  statement  that  the  luminaries  are 
accompanied  by  dark  earth-like  bodies,  and  Anaximenes 
doubtless  made  this  statement  in  order  to  account  for 
eclipses  on  the  theory — correct  enough  in  principle — of 
occultation.  We  are  occasionally  astounded  at  the  happi- 
ness, sometimes  at  the  correctness,  of  his  guesses  at  the 
nature  of  meteorological  and  other  natural  phenomena.  He 
dealt  with  the  lightning,  the  rainbow,  earthquakes,  saline 
phosphorescence,  hail,  and  snow,  the  last  two  with  especial 
success,  and  even  where  his  explanation  was  totally  wrong, 
it  was   extremely  ingenious  and  significant   in   principle. 


HERACLITUS   OF  EPHESUS.  59 

The  reasoning  on  which  he  based  his  views  of  saline 
phosphorescence  may,  for  example,  be  reconstructed  as 
follows.  Air  in  its  finest  state  of  diffusion  turns  to  fire, 
and  accordingly  bums  and  shines  ;  but  these  qualities  do 
not  spontaneously  arise  from  that  state  of  diffusion,  but 
are  indigenous  to  air,  and  in  favourable  circumstances  may 
be  recognizable  even  in  another  state.  Now,  an  exception- 
ally dark  background,  such  as  the  sea  by  night,  will  give 
visibility  to  the  most  dimly  luminous  body.  Thus  set  in 
relief,  the  particles  of  air  which  enter  the  hollows  where 
the  waves  are  parted  by  the  oar,  become  bright  and 
shining.  Here  we  meet  the  earliest  gleams  of  the  thought 
that  the  qualities  of  bodies  are  not  liable  to  abrupt 
changes.  It  is  a  thought  which  will  reappear  as  the 
qualitative  constancy  of  matter,  and  which  we  shall  find 
maintained  by  the  later  nature-philosophers  with  uncom- 
promising vigour.  Finally,  Anaximenes  agrees  with 
Anaximander  in  his  theory  of  cosmic  periods  and  of 
quasi-secondary  gods,  or  of  gods  derived  from  the 
"  divine "  primary  substance,  and  therefore  intrinsically 
perishable. 

5.  Far  from  the  streaming  life  of  the  market  and  the 
roaring  docks  of  Miletus,  the  teachings  of  Heraclitus 
were  matured  in  the  shadow  of  a  sanctuary.  Heraclitus 
was  the  first  of  the  philosophers  of  Greece  whom  we  are 
passing  in  review  by  whom  the  counting-board,  the 
measuring-tape,  and  the  drawing-block  were  alike  eschewed. 
Without  using  his  hands  in  any  way,  he  devoted  himself 
entirely  to  speculation,  and  the  really  remarkable  fertility 
of  his  mind  is  still  a  source  of  instruction  and  refresh- 
ment. At  the  same  time  he  was  a  mere  philosopher,  in 
the  less  complimentary  sense  of  the  term.  He  was  a  man, 
that  is  to  say,  who,  though  master  in  no  trade,  sat  in 
judgment  over  the  masters  in  all.  We  have  still  many 
fragments  of  his  work,  composed  in  language  somewhat 
florid  in  style  and  not  devoid  of  artificial  touches  ;  and 
these,  with  a  few  important  details  of  his  life,  bring  the 
imposing  figure  of  "  the  obscure  or  dark  "  man  nearer  to 
us  than  that  of  any  of  his  predecessors  or  contemporaries. 


6o  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Moreover,  legend  was  early  employed  in  spinning  its  threads 
about  the  head  of  the  "  weeping  "  philosopher.  The  years 
of  his  birth  and  death  are  unknown  to  us  ;  his  "  floruit " 
was  placed  about  the  sixty-ninth  Olympiad  (504-501  B.C.), 
presumably  on  the  ground  of  some  occurrence  with  a 
specific  date  in  which  he  took  a  part.  He  was  a  descendant 
of  the  city-kings  of  Ephesus,  with  claims  of  his  own  to 
the  joint  hierarchic  and  monarchical  office  ;  and  though 
he  yielded  these  claims  to  his  brother,  there  is  no  doubt 
that  he  frequently  intervened  in  the  politics  of  his  birth- 
place, and  he  is  even  said  to  have  induced  the  ruling 
prince,  Melancomas,  to  resign  his  usurped  authority.  But 
the  date  of  the  completion  of  his  work,  on  account  of  its 
political  references,  cannot  be  placed  before  478  B.C. 
"^  Solitude  and  the  beauty  of  nature  were  the  muses  of 
Heraclitus.  He  was  a  man  of  abounding  pride  and  self- 
confidence,  and  he  sat  at  no  master's  feet.  If  we  seek 
the  first  springs  at  which  he  satisfied  his  thirst  for  know- 
ledge, and  caught  the  intimations  of  universal  life  and  of  the 
laws  that  rule  it,  we  must  go  back  to  his  pensive  boyhood, 
when  he  roamed  in  the  enchanting  hills,  with  their  well- 
nigh  tropical  luxuriance,  that  surrounded  his  native  city. 
The  great  poets  of  his  country  fed  his  childish  fancy, 
and  filled  it  with  gorgeous  images,  but  they  afforded  no 
lasting  satisfaction  to  his  mature  intellect.  For,  chiefly 
owing  to  the  influence  of  Xenophanes,  men  began  to 
doubt  the  reality  of  the  myths,  and  the  Homeric  gods, 
with  their  human  lusts  and  passions,  began  to  be  replaced 
in  sensitive  souls  by  the  products  of  a  higher  ideal. 
The  poet  who,  according  to  Herodotus,  was  associated 
with  Hesiod  in  the  invention  of  Greek  religion  would 
not  have  been  honoured  by  Heraclitus,  but  "  banished 
from  public  recitations  and  scourged  with  rods."  For 
Heraclitus  was  equally  opposed  to  all  objects  of 
popular  belief.  He  contemned  the  worship  of  images, 
which  was  as  if  "  a  man  should  chatter  to  a  stone  wall ; " 
he  despised  the  system  of  sin-offerings  which  expiated 
one  stain  by  another,  "just  as  if  a  man  who  had  stepped 
into  mud  were  to  wash  himself  clean  with  mud  ; "  and  he 


HIS   CONTEMPT   OF  MEN.  6 1 

inveighed  against  the  "  abominable "  rites  of  the  Bac- 
chanalia as  strongly  as  against  the  "  unhallowed  observance" 
of  the  Mysteries,  Hesiod  "the  polymath,  whom  most 
men  follow  as  their  master,"  Pythagoras  the  philosophizing 
mathematician,  Xenophanes  the  philosophic  rhapsodist, 
Hecataeus  the  historian  and  geographer,  were  all  tarred 
with  the  same  brush.  He  learnt  from  them  all,  but  he 
owned  the  mastery  of  none.  For  Bias  alone,  with  his  simple 
practical  counsels  of  wisdom,  he  reserved  a  word  of  warm 
praise,  and  he  acknowledges  his  debt  to  Anaximander, 
whose  influence  is  real  and  lasting,  by  omitting  him,  with 
Thales  and  Anaximenes,  from  the  list  of  the  proscribed 
masters  of  polymathy  "which  does  not  instruct  the  mind." 
The  best  in  himself  he  believed  that  he  owed  to  himself,  for 
"  of  all  whose  opinions  "  he  was  acquainted  with  "  none  had 
attained  true  insight."  And  if  his  attitude  towards  poets 
and  thinkers  was  distinguished  by  sullenness  or  mistrust, 
we  can  conceive  the  contempt  he  must  have  felt  for  the 
mass  of  the  people.  His  invectives  fall  on  them  like 
hailstones  ;  "  they  fill  their  bellies  like  cattle,"  and  "  ten 
thousand  do  not  turn  the  scale  against  a  single  man  of 
worth,"  We  can  hardly  expect  that  a  man  who  held  the 
mob  in  such  light  esteem  should  have  cared  to  court 
its  favour,  or  should  even  have  troubled  himself  to  make 
his  meaning  understanded  of  the  people.  His  enigmatic 
philosophy  is  addressed  to  the  fit  and  i^w,  without  regard 
to  the  multitude  "baying  like  curs  at  a  stranger,"  or  to 
"  the  ass  that  preferred  the  bundle  of  hay  to  the  nugget 
of  gold."  Heraclitus  was  aware  of  the  adverse  criticism 
which  would  attach  to  the  oracular  form  and  melancholy 
contents  of  his  work,  but  he  met  it  by  an  appeal  to  tiic 
most  illustrious  examples.  The  Pythian  god  "  expresses 
naught  and  conceals  naught,  but  merely  hints  at  his 
meaning;"  and  "the  voice  of  the  Sibyl  rings  through  the 
centuries  by  the  power  of  the  god  that  speaks  througli  licr 
and  proclaims  its  joyless  message  to  mankind,  naked  and  un- 
adorned." Nor  was  I  Icraclitus  troubled  by  the  postponement 
of  his  reward  ;  "one  thing,"  says  a  fragment,  "worthy  men 
choose  in  preference  to  all  others — renown  incorruptible." 


y 


62  GREEK   THINKERS. 

/  The  political  and  moral  condition  of  Ephesus  served 

to  feed  the  contempt  which  Heraclitus  felt  for  his  fellow- 
men.  The  stranger's  yoke  had  oppressed  the  Greeks  of 
Asia  Minor  for  half  a  century  or  more.  Oppressive  though 
it  was,  its  immediate  harshness  was  frequently  relieved 
by  the  fact  that  indigenous  dynasties  interposed  between 
the  subject  states  and  the  loosely  knit  feudal  empire  of 
Persia.  Still,  it  would  have  been  nothing  less  than  a 
miracle,  if  the  loss  of  national  independence  had  not 
brought  in  its  train  a  depression  of  public  spirit  and  an 
excessive  growth  of  private  interests.  Indeed,  the  soil 
for  such  symptoms  of  decay  had  been  long  since  prepared. 
The  heightened  standard  of  luxury  and  the  refinement 
of  the  East  had  partly  sapped  the  vigour,  while  it 
corrected  the  savagery,  of  ancient  Greece.  Given  these 
conditions,  and  given  the  gall  and  venom  of  Heraclitus, 
we  are  not  surprised  that  his  criticism  fastened  unfavourably 
on  his  fellow-countrymen,  and  that  he  found  them  little 
suited  to  wield  the  sceptre  at  the  time  that  democracy 
arose  from  the  wreck  of  the  Persian  sway.  Be  this  as 
it  may,  he  was  found  in  the  party-feuds  of  that  epoch  on 
the  side  of  the  aristocrats,  whose  cause  he  espoused  with 
a  zeal  proportionate  to  the  contempt  he  cherished  for  his 
antagonists.  The  climax  of  his  hate  was  reached  in  the 
following  embittered  utterance  : — 

"  The  Ephesians  would  do  well  to  hang  themselves  man  by  man, 
and  to  deliver  their  city  to  their  infant  sons,  seeing  that  they 
expelled  Hermodorus,  saying,  '  No  worthy  man  shall  be  among 
us ;  if  there  arise  such  a  man,  let  him  dwell  elsewhere  and  with 
another  people. '  " 

The  exile  who  is  the  subject  of  this  eulogy  found  a 
new  and  honourable  field  for  his  activity  in  a  distant  home. 
His  juristic  advice  was  consulted  by  the  authors  of  the 
Roman  laws  of  the  Twelve  Tables,  and  a  monument  was 
erected  to  his  memory  which  was  seen  as  recently  as  by 
Pliny.  But  the  veteran  friend  of  Hermodorus  was  weary 
of  the  yoke  of  popular  rule.  He  withdrew  to  the  solitude 
of  the  mountains,  where  he  ended    his  days,  having  first 


HIS   ORIGINALITY.  63 

deposited  in  the  temple  of  Artemis  a  roll  of  manuscript 
containing  the  result  of  his  life's  work  as  an  inheritance 
for  generations  to  come. 

The  full  enjoyment  of  this  precious  book  was  denied 
even  to  the  ancients.  It  was  so  heterogeneous  and  self- 
contradictory  that  Theophrastus  could  find  no  other 
explanation  than  that  its  author  had  been  subject  to 
occasional  mental  aberrations.  Aristotle  complained  of 
its  bewildering  grammatical  difficulties,  and  a  host  of 
commentators — some  of  them  of  the  best  repute — ^have 
endeavoured  to  illumine  the  dark  places  in  which  the 
work  abounds.  The  broken  fragments  that  have  reached 
us  defy  all  attempts  to  restore  them  to  their  original 
consecution,  or  to  attribute  them  with  certainty  to  the 
three  sections — physics,  ethics,  and  politics — in  which  the 
work  was  divided. 

Heraclitus'  great  claim  to  originality  does  not  rest  on 
his  theory  of  matter,  nor  yet  on  his  theory  of  nature.  It 
is  rather  to  be  discovered  in  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first 
to  build  bridges,  which  have  never  since  been  destroyed, 
between  the  natural  and  the  spiritual  life,  and  that  he 
constructed  comprehensive  generalizations  comprising  both 
realms  of  human  knowledge,  as  it  were,  with  a  mighty 
bow.  In  principle  he  is  most  closely  allied  with  Anaxi- 
mander.  Both  were  equally  impressed  by  the  transitori- 
ness  of  all  single  objects,  the  ceaseless  mutation  and 
transformation  of  things,  and  the  aspect  of  the  order  of 
nature  as  an  order  in  law.  But  Heraclitus  parted  from  his 
greatest  predecessor  in  the  restlessness  of  his  temperament, 
so  averse  from  all  patient  research,  in  the  more  poetic 
trend  of  his  imagination,  and  in  his  demand  for  conceptions 
of  a  richer  and  more  sculpturesque  kind.  The  primary 
matter  of  Anaximandcr,  devoid  of  all  qualitative  distinction, 
and  the  colourless,  invisible  First  Substance  of  Anaximcnes, 
were  alike  alien  to  his  taste.  The  form  of  matter  which 
seemed  to  Heraclitus  best  to  correspond  to  the  process  of  the 
world,  and  therefore  the  most  dignified,  was  fire.  It  never 
bore  the  remotest  appearance  of  rest  or  even  of  minimal 
movement  ;  it  was  the  principle  of  vital  heat  in  beings  of 


64  GREEK   THINKERS. 

higher  organism,  and  thus  it  appeared  as  the  element  of 
animation  engendering  and  consuming  all  things.     "This 
one   order  of  all  things,"  he   exclaims,  "was  created   by 
none   of  the   gods,   nor  yet   by  any  of   mankind,    but   it 
ever  was,  and   is,  and  shall  be — eternal   fire — ignited   by 
measure,  and  extinguished  by  measure."     He   represents 
primary  fire  as  sinking  to  the  other  and   lower  forms  of 
matter  in  a  minor  and  a  major  circle,  and  as  rising  again 
through  the  same  gradations  to  its  original  form,  for  "  the 
up-road   and  the  down-road   are  one."     Fire  changes  to 
water,  and  as  water  half  of  it  returns  directly  to  heaven  as 
"  fire-steam,"  half  of  it  changes  to   earth,  which   becomes 
water    again,   and    thus   is   finally   changed   back   to   fire. 
Evaporation,  melting,  and  freezing  may  be  regarded  as  the 
processes  which  operate  in  this  circular  system.     We  must 
remember,  too,  that  the  extinction  of  a  burning  substance 
by  water  would  have  counted  in  the  primitive  physics  of 
Heraclitus  as  a  transformation  of  fire  to  water.     The  first 
'  principle  of  our  poet-philosopher  is  not  merely  the  ceaseless 
spring  of  birth  and  decay  ;  it  is  not  merely  divine,  as   it 
was   t(?  his    predecessors.     Heraclitus   regarded   it   as    the 
'source  of  the  world's  intelligence,  as  the  conscious  regula- 
tive principle  of  all  existence  which  "will  not  be   called 
Zeus,"  since  it  is  not  a  personal  being  with  individuality 
of  its  own,  and  yet  "  will  be  called  Zeus,"  since  it  is  the 
supreme  principle  of  the  world,  and  accordingly  the  highest 
principle  of  life.     In  this  connection  it  should  be  remem- 
bered  that   the    Greek   "  zen "    means  "  to  live,"  and   the 
corresponding  forms  of  the  name  Zeus  may  well  be  kept 
in  recollection.     Still,  we  should  not  regard  this  primary 
being   as   a   divinity   acting    with    a    fixed    purpose,    and 
selecting  the  means  appropriate  to  his  end.     We  are  rather 
taught  to  regard  him  as  a  "  boy  at  play,"  amusing  himself 
with   counters,   and  building  castles  on  the  sea-shore  for 
the   sake    of  throwing   them    down    again.     Construction? 
and  destruction,  destruction  and  construction — this   is  the  I 
principle  which  regulates  all   the   circles  of   natural    Hfew 
from   the  smallest  to  the  greatest.     Cosmos   itself,  which 
sprang  from  primary  fire,  is  bound  to  return  to   it   again 


FROM  FIRE    TO    FIRE.  65 

by  a  double  process  which,  however  protracted  its  duration, 
operates  in  fixed  periods,  and  will  constantly  repeat  its 
operation. 

The  speculations  of  Heraclitus  in  this  respect  were 
assisted  by  the  geological  observations  of  Xenophanes  and 
Anaximander.  He  seems  to  have  followed  the  last-named 
thinker  in  concluding,  from  the  obvious  evidence  of  the 
Mediterranean  Sea,  that  the  extension  of  the  water  had  been 
greater  in  past  time  than  it  was  in  the  present ;  and  we 
can  quite  well  understand  that  he  should  push  his  physical 
doctrines  to  the  further  inference  that,  as  land  proceeded 
from  water,  so  water  proceeded  from  fire.  Thus  he  reached  a 
point  of  departure  when  nothing  but  fire  existed.  But  seeing 
that  he  was  pledged  to  Anaximander's  belief  in  a  circular 
order  of  occurrences,  he  could  not  regard  that  process  of 
evolution  as  a  single  and  unique  event.  All  other  material 
substances  sprang  from  fire,  and  into  fire  they  were  bound 
to  return,  in  order  that  the  process  of  differentiation 
might  begin  anew  and  again  reach  the  same  end.  In 
breadth  of  view  Heraclitus  is  here  akin  to  the  greatest  of 
modern  philosophers,  and,  whether  by  chance  or  by  genius, 
he  is  in  agreement  with  them  at  least  in  respect  to  the 
.solar  system,  even  in  the  details  of  his  conception  of  the 
cyclical  system  of  the  world.  To  him  as  to  them  a  ball 
of  fire  marks  the  starting-point  and  the  goal  of  each  cosmic 
period. 

So  much,  perhaps,  for  the  broad  lines  of  Heraclitus' 
doctrine.  Unluckily  he  found  himself  in  occasional  contra- 
diction, not  merely  with  the  nature  of  things,  but  with  the 
principles  of  his  own  teaching,  and  it  is  hard  to  say  how 
far  he  was  conscious  of  these  objections,  and  how  he 
reconciled  them  in  his  own  mind.  When  we  read  his 
axiom  that  "  fire  feeds  on  vapours  which  rise  from  the 
damp,"  we  are  impelled  to  wonder  if  the  gradual  diminu- 
tion and  final  extinction  of  the  fluid  element  would  not 
involve  the  destruction  of  the  source  of  the  food  of  fire. 
And  again,  if  space  were  already  full,  what  room  could  be 
found  there  for  Matter  when  its  volume  was  increased  by 
heat.?     The  Stoics   who  followed   Heraclitus  found  away 

VOL    I.  1' 


66  GREEK   THINKERS. 

out  of  his  difficulty  by  putting  a  vast  expanse  of  empty 
space  at  his  disposal  for  that  purpose.  We  can  assert 
with  complete  confidence,  however,  that  Heraclitus  was 
innocent  of  this  expedient.  The  assumption  of  an  empty 
space  would  have  stamped  him  as  a  precursor  of  Leucippus, 
and  our  authorities  would  never  have  failed  to  acquaint  us 
with  that  fact. 

Heraclitus,  then,  ascribed  to  matter  an  unceasing  trans- 
mutation of  forms  and  qualities.  We  have  next  to  note 
that  he  regarded  it  as  constantly  moving  in  space.  Matter, 
moreover,  was  alive  to  him,  and  its  life  was  life  not  merely 
in  the  sense  in  which  his  immediate  predecessors  were 
correctly  entitled  "  hylozoists "  or  animators  of  substance. 
In  as  far  as  they  placed  the  cause  of  movement  in  matter 
itself,  and  not  in  an  outside  agent,  they  were  followed  by 
the  Ephesian  philosopher.  But  his  "  everlasting  fire  "  was 
not  merely  alive  in  that  sense.  He  watched  the  circula- 
tion of  matter,  as  visible  in  the  animal  and  vegetable 
kingdoms,  and  the  fact  impressed  him  so  strongly  that 
he  used  its  analogy  as  the  leading  principle  of  all  his 
reflections  on  material  processes.  All  life  was  involved  in 
continual  decomposition  and  renewal  ;  and  if  matter  was 
regarded  as  alive  in  the  first-named  meaning  of  that  word, 
i-it  is  by  no  means  surprising  that  by  the  association  of 
ideas  it  should  eventually  be  regarded  as  organically  alive 
in  the  secondary  meaning  of  the  term.  Hence  was 
derived  Heraclitus'  doctrine  of  the  flux  of  things.  It  was 
a  mere  optical  delusion  if  we  looked  on  anything  as 
stationary :  the  thing  was  actually  subject  to  incessant 
transformation.  [And  if  it  were  objected  that  the  trans- 
formation did  not  lead  to  the  destruction  of  the  object,J 
Heraclitus  explained  that  as  the  particles  of  matter  were 
detached  from  it  they  were  constantly  replaced  and 
reunited  in  uninterrupted  succession.  His  favourite  simile 
was  that  of  the  flowing  stream.  "  We  cannot  step  into 
the  same  river  twice,  for  fresh  and  ever  fresh  waters  are 
constantly  pouring  into  it."  And  since  the  river  regarded 
as  an  enduring  mass  of  water  was  the  same,  but  regarded 
as    a   combination   of   particles   was    not    the    same,   this 


THE   FLUX   OF   THINGS.  67 

reflection  was  pointed  to  the  paradox  that  "  we  step  into 
the  same  river,  and  we  do  not  step  into  it ;  we  are,  and 
we  are  not." 

The  half-truths  of  Heraclitus'  analogy  were  intenvoven 
with  correct  observations  and  far-reaching  inferences. 
Among  the  inferences  may  be  mentioned  the  supposition 
that  our  impressions  of  smell  and  of  sight- — the  inclusion 
of  sight  was  natural  to  the  belief  of  those  times — were  pro- 
duced by  particles  of  matter  continually  detaching  them- 
selves from  their  respective  objects.  But  be  that  as  it  may, 
his  reasoning  terminated  in  a  theory  of  nature  which  displays 
quite  remarkable  points  of  likeness  with  the  doctrines  of 
modern  physics.  The  agreement  is  so  exact  that  a  com- 
prehensive summary  of  those  doctrines  corresponds  almost 
verbatim  to  an  ancient  account  of  the  teaching  of  Hera- 
clitus, Aristotle,  in  a  passage  which  plainly  refers  to  the 
Ephesian  and  his  disciples,  states  that  "  it  is  held  by  certain 
people  that  it  is  not  the  fact  that  some  objects  move  while 
others  do  not,  but  that  all  objects  are  always  moving, 
though  their  movements  elude  our  observation."  And  a 
natural  philosopher  of  our  own  times  remarks  that  "  modern 
science  takes  it  for  granted  that  the  molecules  of  matter 
are  always  vibrating  or  in  movement,  .  .  .  though  these 
movements  may  be  imperceptible."  In  these  circum- 
stances, it  is  astonishing  to  recall  the  conditions  of  scientific 
knowledge  at  the  date  when  Heraclitus  was  writing.  It 
was  an  age  which  was  equally  ignorant  of  our  theories  of 
heat,  light,  and  .sound,  which  had  no  more  reached  the  con- 
ception of  waves  of  air  and  ether  than  it  had  perceived  that 
a  molecular  movement  underlies  the  sensation  of  heat  even 
in  .solid  bodies  ;  which  had  not  the  faintest  acc[uaintancc 
with  chemical  and  cellular  processes  ;  and  which,  fmally,  was 
without  the  micro.scope  whereby  our  astoni.shcd  gaze  is  made 
familiar  with  movements  in  places  where  the  naked  eye  can 
only  see  blank  rest,  and  whereby  we  are  irresistibly  per- 
.suaded  that  the  rule  of  motion  extends  infinitely  further 
than  our  feeble  observation  can  i)ursue  it.  Taking  all  these 
considerations  in  account,  we  are  struck  with  the  greatest 
admiration  for   the  genius  and   insight   of   Heraclitus.  and 


68  GREEK    THINKERS. 

perhaps  one  is  most  astonished  that  his  brilliant  anticipa- 
tions produced  so  poor  a  crop  of  detailed  knowledge  of 
nature.  But  our  disappointment  should  not  diminish  the 
renown  of  the  Ephesian  philosopher.  His  mere  recogni- 
tion of  the  fact  that  imperceptible  motions  exist  served 
to  break  down  the  wall  between  the  secrets  of  nature  and 
their  investigators.  In  order  to  render  his  discovery  really- 
useful  and  fertile,  a  second  departure  was  required.  The 
assumption  had  to  be  made  of  similarly  invisible,  inde- 
structible, and  unchangeable  particles  which  enter  into  the 
composition  of  all  material  substances  and  emerge  unhurt 
from  all  their  vicissitudes  of  form  ;  and  this  was  the  great 
contribution  of  the  Atomists  to  the  evolution  of  thought. 
Heraclitus  himself  was  not  to  inaugurate  the  mechanical 
explanation  of  nature.  For  that  task  he  was  disqualified 
by  the  poetic  bias  of  his  mind.  But  he  succeeded  in 
drawing  conclusions  from  his  principle  which  served  to 
illuminate  some  other  departments  of  knowledge. 

The  succession  in  qualitative  mutations  found  its  exact 
counterpart  ^n  co-existent  diversity.  Here  too  the  attentive 
observer  is  confronted  by  a  multiplicity  which  seems  to 
threaten  the  unity  of  an  object  and  of  its  constituent  pro- 
perties. The  action  of  an  object  may  vary,  even  to  the 
point  of  contradiction,  with  the  varieties  of  the  object  on 
which  it  acts.  "  Sea-water  is  the  purest  and  most  disgust- 
ing ;  it  is  drinkable  and  wholesome  for  fishes,  undrinkable 
and  noxious  for  men."  Every  one  who  is  acquainted  with 
the  fragments  extant  of  Heraclitus'  work  will  be  aware 
that  he  was  not  recording  an  isolated  observation  in  that 
sentence.  Rather  he  was  announcing  for  the  first  time  the 
principle  of  the  relativity  of  qualities  which  he  pushed 
forthwith,  as  his  manner  was,  to  its  extreme  consequences, 
in  the  words  "good  and  bad  are  the  same,"  reminding  us 
of  his  former  paradox,  "  We  are  and  we  are  not."  And 
in  point  of  fact  the  Ephesian's  doctrine  of  flux  and  his 
doctrine  of  relativity  lead  to  the  same  result ;  the  succes- 
sive states  of  an  object,  as  well  as  its  simultaneous  qualities, 
frequently  both  bear  the  stamp  of  a  far-reaching  diversity 
which  amounts  at  times  to  complete  contradiction.     Our 


COEXISTENCE    OF  CONTRARIES.  69 

philosopher  believed  that  he  had  rid  himself  of  all  definite- 
ness  and  fixity  in  being  ;  he  revelled  in  phrases  that  set 
common  sense  at  naught,  and  he  forgot  or  neglected  the 
reservations  by  which,  and  by  which  alone,  such  statements 
become  comprehensible  and  acceptable.  In  one  sense  the 
river  remains  the  same,  in  another  sense  it  becomes  a 
different  river ;  in  one  aspect  X  is  "  good,"  in  another 
aspect  it  is  "bad."  Such  distinctions  troubled  Heraclitus 
but  little ;  the  inexperience  of  his  thought  played  into 
the  hands  of  its  arrogance  ;  the  more  unfamiliar  the  results 
he  reached,  the  more  they  satisfied  his  delight  in  paradox, 
his  predilection  for  enigmatic  oracles,  and  the  light  esteem 
in  which  he  held  all  plain  and  obvious  truths.  Hence- 
forward he  regarded  it  as  proven,  as  a  fundamental  law 
in  the  natural  as  well  as  in  the  spiritual  world  that  con- 
traries were  not  mutually  exclusive,  but  rather  presupposed 
and  conditioned,  or  were  even  identical  with,  each  other. 
It  would  be  purblind  folly  to  bear  him  a  grudge  for  this,  for 
in  the  case  of  mistaken  or  neglected  truths,  and  especially 
in  the  instance  of  such  truths  as  naturally  lend  themselves 
to  mistake  or  neglect,  the  thing  of  supreme  and  primary 
importance  is  that  they  should  be  discovered  at  all.  The 
exaggerations  into  which  their  discoverer  is  betrayed  arc 
as  pardonable  as  they  are  intelligible,  and  in  the  long 
run  they  may  be  found  to  do  more  good  than  harm.  The 
logician  with  his  rod  is  not  likely  to  keep  them  waiting 
very  long  ;  and  sooner  or  later  the  shears  which  arc  to 
clip  the  luxuriance  of  thought  will  do  their  remorseless 
work.  Meantime  the  extravagance  and  assertiveness  with 
which  these  elusive  truths  were  originally  invested  will 
have  set  them  in  such  brilliant  relief  that  they  can  never 
again  be  overlooked.  Above  all,  the  point  of  their  paradox 
will  have  penetrated  the  mind  of  their  inventor,  who  will 
keep  them  in  constant  readiness  as  an  inalienable  posses- 
sion. Therefore  the  ".speculative"  revels  of  Heraclitus 
may  be  regarded  by  us  as  the  source  of  the  most  precious 
contribution  with  which  he  has  enriched  the  treasury  of 
human  knowledge.  For  verily  the  pen  of  the  historian  might 
hesitate  where  to  begin  or  end  if  he  endeavoured  to  write 


70  GREEK   THINKERS. 

an  adequate  account  of  the  inexhaustible  range  of  funda- 
mental truths  contained  in  the  exaggerated  statements  of 
Heraclitus.  His  theory  of  relativity,  for  example,  contained 
like  a  folded  flower  the  correct  doctrine  of  sense-perception 
with  its  recognition  of  the  subjective  factor ;  and  it  taught 
Greek  thinkers  the  lesson  they  were  bound  to  acquire  if 
they  were  to  be  saved  from  a  bottomless  scepticism,  that 
one  and  the  same  object  in  the  outside  world  acts  differ- 
ently on  different  objects  and  individuals,  and  may  even 
exercise  varying  effects  on  the  varying  states  of  the  same 
individual.  Nay,  it  brought  the  deeper  and  the  more  in- 
dispensable admission  that  opinions,  laws,  and  institutions 
appropriate  and  wholesome  for  one  phase  of  human  develop- 
ment become  inadequate  and  unwholesome  when  another 
stage  has  been  reached.  "  Reason  becomes  nonsense,  the 
blessing  is  turned  to  a  curse" — simply  because,  as  time 
changes  and  as  constituent  elements  vary,  the  same 
object  may  come  to  exercise  a  very  different  and  even 
a  contradictory  effect.  Relativism  is  the  spur  which 
pricks  the  side  of  a  sluggish  conservatism  in  all  depart- 
ments of  life — taste  and  morals,  politics  and  society — and 
it  is  the  absence  of  relativism  in  the  present  as  in  the  past 
which  lends  the  cry  of  "  it  has  always  been  thus  "  its  force 
in  opposition  to  reform.  And  it  serves  not  merely  the 
cause  of  progress,  but  the  cause  of  sound  conservatism  as 
well  ;  without  a  sense  of  relativity  no  sufficient  explanation 
can  be  given,  no  satisfactory  estimate  made,  of  the  changes, 
vicissitudes,  and  contradictions  between  the  good  and  evil 
of  yesterday  and  to-day.  Without  it,  every  actual  alteration 
in  existing  institutions,  every  barest  observation  that  the 
same  laws  are  not  always  and  universally  valid,  gives  rise 
to  a  far-reaching  and  incurable  scepticism  as  to  the  justifica- 
tion of  all  institutions  whatever.  Human  life  fulfils  itself 
in  many  ways,  and  human  nature  adapts  itself  to  its  con- 
ditions of  time  and  place,  so  that  an  adequate  philosophy 
of  life  must  be  amenable  to  these  Protean  transformations, 
and  no  philosophy  of  life  will  be  adequate  which  finds  its 
salvation  in  a  frigid  rigidity  and  identifies  every  evolutionary 
change  with  the  arbitrary  dominion  of  chance. 


THE   LAW  OF  CONTRAST.  J I 

And  now  at  last  we  reach  the  doctrine  of  the  coexistence 
of  contraries.  Our  poet-philosopher  is  never  weary  of  its 
statement  and  illustration.  He  tells  us  that  "  the  dissonant 
is  in  harmony  with  itself ; "  he  assures  us  that  "  the 
invisible  harmony  which  springs  from  contraries  is  better 
than  the  visible  ; "  and  he  states  that  "  sickness  has  made 
health  desirable,  satiety  hunger,  and  weariness  rest."  Now 
with  oracular  brevity,  now  with  the  clearness  and  breadth 
of  sunlight,  Heraclitus  pointed  his  lesson  that  the  law  of 
contrast  is  supreme  in  nature  no  less  than  in  human  life, 
and  that  "it  would  not  be  better  for  mankind  if  they  were 
given  their  desires  ; "  if,  that  is  to  say,  all  contraries  were 
dissolved  in  an  unalloyed  harmony.  Homer  himself  is 
blamed  by  Heraclitus  as  much  for  wishing  to  expel  "all 
the  evils  of  life  "  as  for  desiring  to  be  rid  of  "  strife  from 
the  circle  of  gods  and  men,"  and  thus  promoting  "  the  down- 
fall of  the  universe."  The  pithy  dicta  we  have  quoted 
require  or  admit  of  countless  explanations.  They  express 
implicitly  or  explicitly  a  long  series  of  modern  concep- 
tions. They  contain  all  that  we  denominate  in  the  widest 
sense  of  the  word  "  polarity "  in  the  realm  of  natural 
forces  ;  they  contain  the  necessity  of  change  for  the  opera- 
tion of  sensation,  and  especially  of  pleasurable  sensa- 
tions ;  they  include  the  condition  of  the  opposite  evil  in 
every  conception  of  good  ;  they  include  the  indispensa- 
bility  of  competition  and  of  what  we  have  learnt  to  call 
the  "  struggle  for  existence,"  if  human  powers  arc  to 
develop  and  increase  ;  and  among  much  else  they  comprise 
the  necessity  of  the  coexistence  of  antagonistic  elements 
in  state  and  society.  And  our  philosopher's  eye  is  ever 
glancing  from  the  inanimate  to  the  animate,  from  animate 
to  inanimate  creation.  Or  rather,  the  distinction  was  non- 
existent for  him.  To  his  eye  the  whole  world  was 
eternally  living  fire,  and  the  soul,  the  vehicle  of  life,  nay, 
the  godhead  itself,  were  fire  and  nothing  but  fire. 

The  hardest  point  in  our  inquiry  is  to  credit  Heraclitus 
with  the  sociological  insight  to  which  alkision  was  just 
now  made  ;  but  precisely  in  this  regard  the  wording  of  one 
of   his   dicta   is  absolutely  unequivocal.      He  entitles   war 


72  GREEK    THINKERS. 

"the  father  and  king"  of  all  things  or  beings.  Now,  if 
the  fragment  had  broken  off  here,  no  one  would  think  of 
understanding  it  in  any  but  its  purely  physical  and  cosmo- 
logical  sense.  On  all  sides  the  eye  of  the  philosopher  of 
Ephesus  discovered  the  play  of  opposite  forces  and  qualities, 
which  reciprocally  promoted  and  conditioned  one  another. 
He  conceived  a  law  of  polarity  encompassing  the  whole  of 
life  and  comprising  all  separate  laws  in  itself  Rest 
without  struggle  led  in  his  conception  to  universal  sleep, 
coma,  and  destruction  ;  "  the  mixture,"  he  wrote,  "  which 
is  not  shaken  becomes  decomposed."  The  principle  of 
struggle  and  strife  is  at  the  bottom  of  that  incessant  motion 
which  is  the  source  and  preservative  of  life ;  and  its 
qualities  as  progenitor,  ruler,  and  guardian  are  characterized 
by  the  titles  "father  and  king."  Formerly  one  might 
have  stopped  at  this  point,  but  now  we  are  enabled 
to  go  further,  since  a  lucky  discovery  made  about  forty 
years  ago  has  put  us  in  possession  of  the  continuation  of 
the  fragment.  "  Some,"  it  goes  on,  "  war  has  proved  to 
be  gods,  others  to  be  men  ;  some  he  has  made  slaves, 
others  he  has  made  freemen."  The  slaves  are  the  prisoners 
of  war  and  their  descendants  ;  their  conquerors  and  rulers 
are  the  freemen.  Thus  it  is  clear,  from  the  drift  of 
Heraclitus'  argument,  that  he  conceived  war  as  testing  and 
preserving  the  quahties  of  mankind,  as  making  a  distinction 
between  the  competent  and  the  incompetent,  as  founding 
the  state  and  organizing  society.  He  praises  war  for 
bringing  this  differential  value  to  full  expression,  and  we 
perceive  what  significance  he  attached  to  it  by  his  co-ordi- 
nation of  gods  and  men  with  the  categories  of  slaves  and 
freemen.  For  war  too  effected  the  division  between  the 
human  and  divine :  the  man  become  god  stood  to  the 
average  man  in  the  same  relation  as  the  freeman  to  the 
slave,  and  Heraclitus  imagined  that  there  were  chosen 
spirits  exalted  from  earthly  life  to  divine  being,  besides 
the  crowd  of  common  souls  hidden  in  the  under-world  and 
limited  in  that  region  of  damp  and  misery  to  the  single 
sense  of  smell  in  the  place  of  the  higher  perceptions.  He 
conceived  a  ladder  of  beings  with  different  rungs  of  rank, 


HERACLITUS'   SOCIOLOGY.  "] -^ 

different  merits,  different  abilities,  different  excellences. 
He  referred  the  succession  of  rank  to  a  gradation  of  merit, 
and  then  inquired  into  its  causes.  These  he  discovered  in 
the  friction  of  forces  which  sometimes  manifested  itself  as 
war  in  the  strictest  sense  of  that  term,  and  sometimes  as  a 
kind  of  more  or  less  metaphorical  warfare.  Such  shades 
of  meaning  provided  the  requisite  links  between  the 
cosmological  and  sociological  significance  of  the  phrase. 
Still,  too  much  stress  ought  not  to  be  laid  on  the  use 
of  metaphorical  language.  We  have  to  allow  for  the 
degeneracy  of  his  Ionian  kinsfolk,  whom  Xenophanes 
was  already  castigating  for  their  effeminate  luxury ;  we 
have  to  reckon  with  the  indolence  of  his  fellow-citizens, 
against  which  Callinus  was  protesting,  and  with  the  heavy 
misfortunes  which  his  country  was  suffering,  before  we  can 
fully  appreciate  his  estimation  of  the  virtues  of  war.  "  The 
fallen  in  war,"  he  exclaims,  "are  honoured  by  gods  and 
men,  and  the  greater  the  fall  the  louder  the  paean  "  of 
honour  and  admiration.  But  for  the  thinker  whose  strength 
lay  in  his  genius  for  generalization,  the  most  painful 
experiences  were  merely  a  spur  to  the  pursuit  of  his  track 
of  thought.  Its  goal  in  this  instance  was  no  meaner  object 
than  the  triumphant  realization  of  the  truth  that  struggle 
and  resistance  are  a  fundamental  condition  of  the  preser- 
vation of  human  power  on  its  road  to  progressive  perfection. 
However  deep  and  numerous  the  truths  may  be  which 
Heraclitus  has  taught  us  hitherto,  the  greatest  surprise  is 
yet  in  store  for  us.  He  pursued  his  observations  of  nature 
and  human  life  through  the  series  of  single  rules  which  he 
noted  to  one  all-embracing  rule.  His  eye  perceived  a 
universal  law  in  strict  unexceptional  operation.  And  his 
recognition  and  proclamation  of  the  universal  rule  of  law, 
of  the  dominion  of  unexceptional  causality,  marks  a 
distinct  turning-point  in  the  intellectual  development  of 
mankind.  We  may  quote  in  this  connection  the  following 
dicta  of  Heraclitus  : — 

"  The  sun  will  not  transgress  his  measures  :  were  he  to  do  so, 
the  Erinyes,  abettors  of  Justice,  would  overtake  him. 


74  GREEK   THINKERS. 

"  He  who  speaks  with  understanding  must  take  his  foothold 
on  what  is  common  to  all,  even  more  firmly  than  the  city  stands 
on  the  foothold  of  law ;  for  all  human  laws  are  nourished  by 
divine  law. 

"  Though  this  logos^ — this  fundamental  law — existeth  from  all 
time,  yet  mankind  are  unaware  of  it,  both  ere  they  hear  it  and  in 
the  moment  that  they  hear  it." 

If  we  were  asked  how  Heraclitus  succeeded  in  climb- 
ing to  these  heights  of  knowledge,  a  provisional  answer 
might  be  given  that  he  was  here  summarizing  tendencies 
which  pervaded  the  spirit  of  his  age.  It  was  an  age  when 
man's  acquaintance  with  nature  had  been  extended,  and 
his  moral  aspirations  enlarged  to  a  degree  which  could 
not  rest  satisfied  with  an  explanation  of  the  world  based  on 
the  capricious  and  arbitrary  interference  of  supernatural 
beings.  The  progressive  exaltation  of  the  supreme  god — 
the  god  of  heaven — kept  pace  with  his  moral  refinement ; 
the  attempt  was  constantly  renewed  to  derive  the  many- 
coloured  multiplicity  of  objects  from  a  single  material 
source,  and  in  these  phenomena  we  may  mark  the  growing 
belief  in  the  uniformity  of  the  universe  and  in  the  unity 
of  its  rule.  The  road  was  open  for  the  pursuit  of  all- 
comprehensive  laws,  and  its  pilgrims  submitted  to  more 
and  more  stringent  conditions.  The  astronomers  had 
been  the  first  to  lay  the  foundations  of  exact  natural 
science,  and  these  had  speedily  been  followed  by  the 
mathematical  physicists,  among  whom  Pythagoras  takes 
the  foremost  place.  We  can  hardly  conceive  the  impres- 
sion that  must  have  been  produced  when  Pythagoras 
announced  the  results  of  his  experiments  in  acoustics. 
Sound,  the  most  volatile  of  phenomena,  had  been  im- 
prisoned by  number  and  measure,  and  had  passed  under 
their  yoke  ;  and  what,  men  asked  themselves,  would  in 
future  be  able  to  resist  those  tyrants  "i  The  cry  spread 
from  Lower  Italy  through  Greece,  "  number  is  the  essence 
of  things."  It  is  perfectly  plain  that  the  Ephesian 
philosopher  did  not  shut  himself  off  from  these  influences. 
The  ideas  of  harmony,  of  contrast,  and  especially  of 
measure,   are   prominent    features    in    his    speculations,    a 


UNIVERSAL   LAW.  75 

large  part  of  which  may  indisputably  be  referred  to 
Pythagoras,  and  a  minor  part  to  the  influence  of  Anaxi- 
mander.  Heraclitus  was  not  cast  for  the  role  of  an  exact 
investigator ;  his  passions  were  too  free,  he  lacked  the 
requisite  soberness,  and  he  was  too  prone  to  seek  satiety 
in  a  debauch  of  metaphors  ;  but  he  was  admirably  suited 
to  be  the  herald  of  the  new  philosophy.  In  this  respect, 
as  well  as  in  his  frequent  injustice  towards  the  actual 
promoters  of  science,  he  may  fairly  be  compared  with 
Francis  Bacon,  between  whom  and  himself  less  convincing 
points  of  likeness  have  recently  been  remarked.  But  the 
power  of  Heraclitus  was  not  confined  to  his  force  of  language 
and  his  talent  for  plastic  expression.  The  explanations  he 
vouchsafed  in  single  instances  may  have  been  childish  to  a 
degree  ;  he  may  have  written  that  "  the  drunken  man  is  led 
by  a  beardless  boy  and  stumbles  because  his  soul  is  wet,"  or 
that  "  a  dry  soul  is  the  wisest  and  best ; "  but  he  was 
marked  in  an  extraordinary  degree  by  a  genius  for  identity, 
for  distinguishing  likenesses  under  the  most  illusory  dis- 
guises. He  possessed  an  almost  unparalleled  faculty  for 
pursuing  views  that  he  had  obtained  in  a  limited  and  special 
field  through  the  whole  perspective  of  life  and  through  the 
twofold  vista  of  the  natural  and  spiritual  worlds.  We 
have  already  seen  that  he  had  no  need  of  constructing  a 
bridge  between  nature  and  spirit ;  for  him  and  his  imme- 
diate predecessors  the  gulf  no  longer  existed.  And  in 
this  respect  he  was  considerably  assisted  by  his  choice  of 
a  primary  matter.  This  world  was  built  of  fire,  or  "  soul- 
stuff,"  and  starting  from  this  assumption  he  was  completely 
at  liberty  to  extend  his  generalizations  from  any  and 
every  department  of  nature  to  the  phenomena  of  soul 
and  the  political  and  social  phenomena  that  proceed  from 
them.  To  this  we  owe  his  comprehensive  collection  of 
generalizations,  the  pinnacle  of  which  was  reached  in  the 
recognition  of  universal  law  at  the  root  of  all  mundane 
occurrences. 

We  have  now  to  remark  the  particular  impulse  depend- 
ing on  Heraclitus'  theory  of  flux,  together  with  his  very 
imperfect  theory  of  matter,  which  impelled  him  to  climb 


76  GREEK    THINKERS. 

that  summit  and  to  proclaim  with  all  the  emphasis  at  his 
disposal  that  the  highest  goal  of  knowledge  was  the  one 
law  regulating  all  events.  Otherwise  he  must  have  appre- 
hended that  no  object  of  trustworthy  knowledge  would 
have  been  left  extant,  and  the  reproach  unjustly  levelled 
at  him  by  Aristotle  would  have  appeared  to  be  thoroughly 
merited.  But  this  was  now  out  of  court.  Universal  law 
stood  unmoved  and  unshaken  through  all  the  changes  of 
individual  objects  and  all  the  vicissitudes  of  material 
forms,  in  defiance  of  the  destruction  on  which  the  cosmic 
system  hastened  at  regular  intervals,  and  from  which  it 
was  reconstructed  anew ;  and  under  the  vague  mystic 
description  of  universal  reason  or  universal  godhead  it 
took  its  place  by  the  side  of  primary  matter,  endowing 
it  with  reason  and  soul,  as  the  one  thing  permanent  in 
the  cyclic  stream  of  occurrences,  without  beginning  and 
without  end.  To  recognize  universal  law  or  reason 
was  the  highest  function  of  intellect ;  to  bow  to  it  and  to 
obey  it  was  the  ultimate  test  of  conduct.  Obstinacy 
and  self-will  were  the  embodiments  of  falsehood  and  evil, 
which  were  fundamentally  one.  "  Self-conceit  "  was  com- 
pared with  "epilepsy,"  one  of  the  most  terrible  diseases 
that  can  befall  mankind,  and  one  which  throughout 
antiquity  was  looked  on  as  sent  by  demons.  "  Insolence," 
again,  "must  be  extinguished  like  a  conflagration." 
"  Wisdom  consists  in  this  alone,  to  understand  reason  (or 
universal  intelligence),  which  steers  all  things  through 
all."  It  was  by  no  means  easy  to  satisfy  this  condition, 
for  truth  was  paradoxical.  "  Nature,"  wrote  the  philosopher, 
"  loves  to  hide  herself,  and  escapes  detection  by  her  in- 
credibility." But  the  patient  inquirer  must  use  his  best 
efforts,  must  keep  his  cheerful  courage  at  the  sticking- 
place,  and  be  constantly  equal  to  surprises,  for  "if  ye 
expect  not  the  unexpected,  ye  shall  not  find  truth,  seeing 
that  it  is  hard  to  discern  and  not  readily  accessible." 
Again,  we  read  that  "we  must  not  speculate  about  the 
highest  things  in  lightness  of  heart,"  we  must  not  be 
governed  by  caprice,  for  "punishment  will  overtake  the 
lie-smith    and    the    false    witness."      Human    institutions 


ETHICAL    CONSEQUENCES.  T] 

were  limited  in  duration  and  extent  by  their  agreement 
with  divine  law,  which  "  ruleth  as  far  as  it  listeth,  sufficeth 
for  all,  and  overcometh  all  things."  But  within  those 
limits  the  law  shall  prevail,  which  "the  people  shall 
defend  like  a  rampart."  But  law  was  by  no  means  the 
arbitrary  whim  of  the  many-headed  unreasoning  mob ; 
it  was  rather  the  insight  and  frequently  "  the  counsel  of 
one  man,"  to  whom  "obedience  was  due"  on  account  of 
his  superior  wisdom. 

Heraclitus  exerted  on  posterity  a  curiously  two-edged 
influence,  and  as  an  historical  factor  he  reveals  the  same 
double  aspect  which  is  shown  by  natural  objects  in  his 
theory.  He  became  the  head  and  fount,  not  merely  of 
religious  and  conservative  tendencies,  but  also  of  scepticism 
and  revolution.  If  we  may  echo  his  own  cry,  he  was  and 
he  was  not  a  bulwark  of  conservatism,  he  was  and  he 
was  not  the  champion  of  revolt.  Still  it  was  in  accord- 
ance with  his  idiosyncrasy  that  the  weight  of  his  influence 
should  have  leaned  to  the  side  of  defence.  Within  the 
school  of  the  Stoics,  his  tendency  was  precisely  opposed 
to  the  radical  tendency  of  the  Cynics.  His  views  on 
the  subordination  of  all  occurrences  to  fixed  laws  were 
responsible  for  the  strict  and  implacable  determinism  of  the 
Stoics,  which  was  liable  in  all  but  the  clearest  brains  to 
pass  into  fatalism.  From  those  views  were  derived  the 
quality  of  resignation,  not  to  say  of  quietism,  which  wc 
meet  as  early  as  Cleanthes,  and  the  willing  submission  to 
the  dispensations  of  destiny  of  which  Epictetus  and  Marcus 
Aurelius  were  the  apostles.  Heraclitus,  too,  is  the  first  to 
introduce  us  to  the  Stoic  manner  of  moulding  and  adapting 
philosophy  to  the  requirements  of  popular  belief  Similarly 
we  may  recall  Hegel,  his  disciple  in  modern  times,  the 
author  of  the  "  philosophy  of  restoration,"  of  the  meta- 
physical glorification  of  tradition  in  church  and  state,  and 
of  the  famous  dictum,  "the  real  is  reasona!)lc,  and  the 
reasonable  is  real."  Yet  the  Nco-Hegelian  radicalism,  too. 
as  is  shown  by  the  example  of  Lassalle,  is  also  closely 
akin  to  Heraclitus.  And  for  the  most  striking  parallel, 
the   exactest    counterpart  to  the  Ephesian   which  modern 


78  GREEK    THINKERS. 

philosophy  has  produced,  we  must  refer  to  the  great 
revolutionary  spirit  of  Proudhon.  In  separate  and  highly 
characteristic  doctrines  they  are  as  alike  as  two  peas,  and 
Proudhon's  mental  habits  and  his  consequent  love  of 
paradox  remind  us  most  vividly  of  Heraclitus. 

The  key  to  the  contradiction  is  not  far  to  seek.  The 
innermost  essence  of  Heraclitism  was  its  insight  into  the 
many-sidedness  of  things,  and  the  breadth  of  its  intellectual 
horizon  as  opposed  to  every  kind  of  narrow-mindedness. 
The  habit  and  capacity  of  broad  views  tend  to  reconcile 
us  to  the  imperfectness  of  nature  and  the  hardship  of 
history.  Frequently  they  help  us  to  perceive  the  remedy 
beside  the  disease,  the  antidote  beside  the  poison.  They 
teach  us  to  discern  the  deep  inner  harmony  in  apparent 
conflict,  and  to  discover  in  what  is  ugly  and  hurtful  inevitable 
bridges  and  stepping-stones  to  the  beautiful  and  wholesome. 
Thus  they  lead  to  an  indulgent  judgment  of  the  universe 
in  its  natural  and  historical  aspects,  and  pave  the  way  for 
"  theodicies  "  and  for  attempts  to  redeem  the  character  of 
single  individuals  as  well  as  of  entire  epochs.  They  foster 
the  historical  sense,  and  are  akin  to  movements  of  religious 
optimism.  Such  tendencies,  indeed,  were  actually  strength- 
ened by  the  revival  of  Heraclitism  that  took  place  in  the 
age  of  Romance.  But  the  same  capacity  and  habit  of 
mind  produce  a  contrary  effect.  They  are  inimical  to 
authority  in  that  they  forbid  the  formation  of  one-sided 
judgments.  Dogmatism  in  laws  and  institutions  is  entirely 
incompatible  with  a  high-strung  versatility  and  flexibility 
of  thought.  A  moment's  reflection  will  make  this  clear. 
Heraclitus  assumed  a  state  of  universal  flux.  Each  single 
phenomenon  in  his  theory  was  a  link  in  the  chain  of 
causality,  a  transitory  phase  of  evolution,  and  it  would 
obviously  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  bend  the  knee 
to  an  isolated  product  of  the  incessant  series  of  trans- 
formations, as  though  it  were  eternal  and  immune. 

We  may  justly  assert  that  Heraclitism  is  conservative, 
since  it  discerns  the  positive  side  in  things  negative  ;  it  is 
revolutionary,  since  it  descries  the  negative  side  in  things 
positive.     It  recognizes  nothing  absolute  either  in  good  or 


DUALITY   OF  HERACLITTSM.  79 

in  evil ;  therefore  there  is  nothing  that  it  unconditionally 
rejects,  nothing,  too,  that  it  unconditionally  accepts.  This 
habit  of  relative  judgments  brings  historical  justice  in  its 
train,  but  it  prevents  the  acquiescence  in  any  state  of  things 
as  final.  The  doctrines  of  Heraclitus  have  been  fruitful 
even  till  our  own  times,  but  from  these  recent  manifestations 
of  his  influence  we  must  revert  to  its  sources.  The  names 
of  Pythagoras  and  Xenophanes  have  occurred  more  than 
once  in  our  mention  of  the  men  who  exerted  an  influence 
on  Heraclitus,  and  Pythagoras  and  Xenophanes  themselves 
were  not  without  their  precursors.  The  vivid  intellectual 
life  of  these  centuries  flowed  in  so  many  streams  parallel 
or  partly  identical  with  one  another,  that  it  is  hardly 
possible  to  keep  our  eyes  fixed  on  one  without  temporarily 
losing  sight  of  others  which  are  of  no  less  importance. 
Hence  we  may  fitly  sound  a  retreat  at  this  point,  and 
pick  up  what  we  may  have  neglected  too  long. 


8o  GREEK    THINKERS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

ORPHIC  SYSTEMS   OF   COSMOGONY. 

I.  Must  it  be  said  that  the  courtly  epic  poetry,  with  its 
enhghtened  traits,  with  its  delight — at  times  its  frivolous 
delight — in  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  brought  about  a  kind 
of  reaction,  or  was  it  merely  that,  as  the  lower  classes  rose 
to  power  and  prosperity,  their  views  of  life — the  views  of 
the  bourgeois  and  the  peasant — usurped  the  determining 
place  ?  Be  that  as  it  may,  the  religion  and  morality  of 
post-Homeric  Greece  wear  a  thoroughly  altered  aspect. 
Solemn,  gloomy,  and  dismal  features  begin  to  predominate. 
We  hear  for  the  first  time  of  the  expiation  of  murder,  the 
worship  of  souls,  and  the  sacrifices  to  the  dead,  or  where 
such  customs  were  formerly  the  exception  they  now 
become  the  rule.  The  many  essential  points  of  likeness 
between  these  observances  and  opinions  and  those 
which  obtained  among  kindred  peoples,  especially  among 
the  nations  of  Italy,  as  the  most  closely  allied  to  the 
Greeks,  show  us  that  we  are  not  dealing  with  wholly 
new  ideas,  but  rather,  to  a  considerable  extent  at  least, 
with  the  revival  or  the  first  visible  appearance  of  an 
immemorial  tradition.  There  is  one  reservation  to  be 
made.  The  doctrine  of  immortality  undoubtedly  under- 
went a  progressive  transformation,  and  its  serious  influence 
on  the  development  of  Greek  speculation  compels  us  to 
discuss  it  at  greater  length. 

Men's  thoughts  have  always  been  busy  with  images 
of  the  next  world,  though  the  shapes  and  colours  it 
assumes  vary  with  national  moods  and  circumstances.     At 


VIEWS    OF   THE   NEXT    WORLD.  8 1 

first  the  future  would  be  conceived  as  the  mere  continua- 
tion of  the  present.  The  happy  looked  forward  to  it  with 
joy,  the  heavily-laden  with  fear.  Princes  and  nobles 
viewed  the  next  world  as  a  kind  of  limitless  vista  of  the 
pleasures  of  the  chase  and  the  table ;  serfs  and  slaves 
discerned  in  it  an  unending  chain  of  hard  and  exacting 
duties.  Still,  the  uncertainty  which  is  inseparable  from 
the  future,  left  an  ample  field  for  the  tremors  of  anxiety 
as  well  as  for  the  flights  of  hope.  For,  if  the  wish  is 
father  to  the  thought,  care  may  be  called  its  mother,  and 
their  offspring  show  in  varying  proportions  the  features 
of  both  their  parents.  If  a  man's  lot  on  earth  has  been 
running  over  with  pleasure,  he  will  readily  conceive  the 
future  as  a  pale  and  shadowy  reflection  of  his  mortal 
experience ;  if  such  experience  has  left  him  a  wide 
margin  for  wishes  and  longings,  then  fancy  will  dip  her 
brush  in  the  rosy  colours  of  hope ;  finally,  excess  of 
suffering,  and  the  habit  of  sufferance  it  engenders,  blunt 
the  edge  of  hope  as  well  as  that  of  desire,  and  imagina- 
tion is  left  to  exercise  its  skill  on  purely  joyless  pictures 
of  the  future.  And  to  outward  conditions  must  be 
added  the  differences  of  national  temperament.  But, 
speaking  generally,  and  confining  our  attention  to  the 
factors  already  enumerated,  the  conception  of  the  future 
may  be  taken  as  resembling  the  actual  present  ;  its 
lights  and  shades  will  be  distributed  according  to  the 
idiosyncrasies  we  have  mentioned.  Nevertheless,  it  is  not 
hard  to  conjecture  at  what  points  in  the  course  of  time 
imagination  will  have  burst  those  bonds.  The  key  to  the 
departure  is  to  be  sought  in  that  theory  of  the  next  world 
which  may  be  described  in  one  word  as  the  retributive.  It 
is  a  doctrine  which  rested  in  the  first  instance  on  the  fact 
of  common  observation  that  a  man's  moral  and  mental 
qualities  determine  to  a  great  extent  his  lot.  Power  and 
fortune  in  this  life  are  apt  to  favour  the  brave,  the  strong, 
the  circumspect,  the  resolute  ;  and  hence,  by  an  obvious 
inference,  or  by  the  mere  association  of  ideas,  he  exj^ects 
the  same  fate  to  attend  him  in  the  life  to  come.  Another 
factor  must  be  looked  for  in  the  likes  and  dislikes  of  the 
VOL.  I.  G 


82  GREEK   THINKERS. 

gods.  Clearly  the  favourites  of  the  gods,  and  especially 
their  descendants,  must  preserve  in  the  next  world  the 
advantages  gained  in  this  over  persons  bound  by  no  such 
tie  to  the  rulers  of  human  destiny.  And  if  prayer  and 
sacrifice  can  win  the  good-will  of  heaven,  there  is  plainly 
no  reason  to  suppose  that  the  liking  thus  bestowed  will 
lose  its  efficacy  under  the  conditions  of  future  existence. 
This,  then,  is  the  sum  of  the  matter.  As  state  and  society 
grow,  the  mighty  forces  of  nature  acquire  a  moral  signi- 
ficance ;  they  are  ranged  with  the  family  gods  as  the 
guardians  and  defenders  of  human  laws  and  institutions, 
and  this  process  gives  rise  to  the  thought — though  it  ripens 
but  late  and  slowly — that  the  sceptre  of  heavenly  justice 
is  bound  by  no  earthly  confines,  but  that  even  beyond 
the  limits  of  this  life  it  is  strong  to  pursue  and  overtake 
with  the  reward  of  righteousness  and  the  punishment 
of  wrongdoing. 

In  reviewing  the  development  of  Greece  we  are 
confronted  with  some  of  these  phases.  An  age  or  a 
sphere  of  life  drowned  in  immoderate  passions  and 
drenched  in  incessant  conflicts,  affording  ample  employ- 
ment for  the  complete  scale  of  human  sensibility,  is  as 
ill-adapted  for  dreaming  of  futurity  as  for  repining  at  the 
days  that  are  no  more.  The  active  and  actual  hour 
absorbs  the  distant  future  no  less  than  the  distant  past, 
and  Homer's  heroes,  in  their  rare  intervals  of  repose  when 
war  and  fighting  were  laid  aside,  would  beguile  their 
leisure  by  descriptions  of  battles  and  adventures — their 
own,  their  ancestors',  or  their  gods',  whom  they  conceived 
so  completely  in  their  own  likeness.  No  one  envied  the 
inhabitants  of  Hades  their  nerveless,  noiseless  existence. 
The  warrior  of  Troy  asked  nothing  better  than  to  walk  in 
the  light  of  the  sun.  Achilles  would  rather  endure  a  poor 
journeyman's  humble  lot  on  earth  than  reign  as  a  monarch 
among  the  shades.  Even  if  one  of  the  warriors  should 
be  exalted  by  the  gods  to  a  share  in  heavenly  bliss,  such 
a  distinction  was  a  purely  personal  affair ;  it  was  not  the 
reward  of  glorious  action,  nor  was  its  recipient  therefore 
superior  to  any  of  his  less-favoured  fellows.     The  instance 


BELIEF  IN  IMMORTALITY.  83 

of  Menelaus  is  a  case  in  point.  It  was  otherwise  in 
Hesiod's  time,  or  rather  in  the  classes  of  people  to  whom 
his  writings  were  addressed.  These  were  confronted  with 
a  gloomy  present,  and  imagination  was  bound  to  supply 
the  missing  happiness  and  brightness  by  embellishing  the 
past  as  well  as  the  future.  They  fondly  looked  back  at 
a  long-vanished  "  Golden  Age  ; "  the  gradual  deterioration 
of  man's  lot  on  earth  was  stated  by  them  as  a  fact,  and  it 
became  a  problem  whose  solution  was  a  constant  puzzle 
to  the  thoughtful.  The  state  of  the  souls  after  death 
was  frequently  taken  as  glorified.  The  dead  were  often 
promoted  to  spirits  who  watched  over  the  destinies  of  the 
living.  The  "  Elysian  Fields  "  and  the  "  Fortunate  Islands  " 
began  to  fill  with  inhabitants.  But  with  all  this  there 
was  no  dogmatic  precision  ;  the  whole  range  of  these  ideas 
was  vague,  vacillating,  misty,  and  it  remained  so  for  some 
time.  Homer,  it  is  true,  shows  traces  of  a  germ  of  the 
retributive  doctrine,  in  the  torments  of  hell  that  overtook 
certain  irrepressible  wrongdoers  and  "  enemies  of  the  gods  ;  " 
but  many  centuries  were  still  to  elapse  before  the  seed 
came  to  flower.  Tantalus  and  Sisyphus  in  agony  are 
succeeded  by  Ixion  and  Thamyras  ;  but  apart  from  the 
penalties  exacted  in  Tartarus  for  exceptional  insolence 
against  the  gods,  the  average  lot  of  humanity  in  the  next 
world  was  still  regarded  as  completely  independent  of 
moral  feelings  and  deserts.  And  above  all,  though  the 
radiance  of  eternity  might  be  stained  by  many  shafts 
of  colour,  yet  the  state  religion  as  the  final  expression 
of  the  conscience  of  the  ruling  classes,  took  but  slight 
account  of  the  belief  in  immortality.  Antiquity — so  far, 
at  least,  as  its  public  religious  systems  are  a  guide  to  its 
thoughts  and  desires — was  intent  on  this  side  of  the 
grave. 

We  have  been  speaking  of  the  main  current  of 
religious  life.  It  should  not  be  forgotten,  however,  that 
cross-currents  and  under-currents  were  at  work  which 
gradually  gained  in  strength,  though  liable  to  temporary 
shallows,  till  they  grew  to  a  mighty  stream  hollowing  its 
greedy  course  through  the  very  heart  of  Hellenic  religion. 


84  GREEK   THINKERS. 

One  feature  was  common  to  all.  The  worshippers  of  the 
Mysteries  and  the  disciples  of  Orphic  Pythagoreanism 
were  moved  alike  by  a  heightened  interest  in  the  future 
of  the  soul,  based  in  the  first  instance  on  their  disdain 
for  earthly  life,  and  resting  ultimately  on  the  gloomy  view 
which  they  took  of  it. 

2.  The  Orphic  doctrines — called  after  Orpheus,  the 
legendary  minstrel  of  Thrace,  whose  name  was  attributed 
to  all  the  sacred  books  of  those  sects — have  come  down 
to  us  in  various  recensions  widely  differing  in  parts  from 
one  another.  Our  fullest  source  of  information  dates 
from  the  evening  of  antiquity  when  Plato's  latest  heirs, 
the  so-called  Neo-Platonists,  were  delighted  to  revert  to 
teachings  so  acceptable  and  congenial  to  their  own.  They 
introduced  in  their  writings  frequent  references  to  the 
Orphic  poems,  and  quoted  directly  from  them.  Now, 
when  we  remember  that  the  Orphic  doctrine  is  not  a 
homogeneous  whole,  but  is  the  compilation  of  diverse 
hands  in  various  epochs  of  history,  it  is  not  surprising 
that  the  evidence  of  these  late  witnesses  should  have  been 
received  with  suspicious  scrutiny.  It  would  appear  at 
first  sight  a  sound  principle  of  criticism  to  discredit  all 
evidence  of  this  kind  except  for  the  age  of  its  origin. 
But  some  of  the  most  recent  discoveries  have  afforded  a 
striking  proof  of  the  will-o'-the-wisp  character  of  such 
critical  lights.  In  the  tombs  of  Lower  Italy,  for  example, 
dating  from  the  third  century  B.C.,  which  have  lately  been 
opened,  gold  plates  have  been  found  inscribed  with  Orphic 
verses  formerly  known  to  us  merely  by  a  reference  in 
Proclus,  a  Neo-Platonist  of  the  fifth  century  A.D.  Thus 
seven  hundred  years  were  added  at  a  stroke  to  their 
presumptive  antiquity.  Similarly  Phanes,  one  of  the 
most  important  figures  of  Orphic  worship,  was  vouched 
for  by  no  writer  earlier  than  the  Augustan  historian 
Diodorus,  till  we  found  his  name  invoked  on  another  of 
these  tablets  of  Thurii.  Criticism  has  thus  been  exposed 
as  hypercriticism  in  these  instances,  and  the  excess  of 
cautious  foresight  as  a  defect  of  sound  insight.  It  is 
wiser  on  the  whole   to  allow  a  fair  margin  for  errors  in 


PHERECYDES   OF  SYROS.  85 

detail  than  to  shut  out  the  view  into  the  inter-connection 
of  these  doctrines  by  the  obstructive  use  of  the  principle 
— not  wholly  unreasonable  in  itself — which  would  limit 
the  validity  of  each  piece  of  evidence  to  the  age  to  which 
it  indubitably  belongs.  The  new  criticism,  too,  has  tried 
to  compensate  for  the  absence  of  direct  testimony  by 
carefully  sorting  and  comparing  such  hints  and  allusions 
as  occur. 

Let  us  first  try  to  focus  the  intellectual  endowment  of 
the  men  whom  Aristotle  calls  the  "  theologians,"  and  whom 
we  may  perhaps  describe  as  the  right  wing  of  the  oldest 
group  of  Greek  thinkers.  Their  mind  was  less  scientific 
than  that  of  the  "  physiologists."  They  made  a  far  keener 
demand  for  a  vivid  representation  of  the  origin  and  develop- 
ment of  the  world.  The  common  mythology  of  the 
Hellenes  did  not  fully  satisfy  them,  partly  because  it  was 
at  variance  with  their  standard  of  morality,  partly  because 
it  answered  the  questions  of  cause  and  descent  in  too 
vague  or  too  crude  a  fashion.  Still,  their  original  specu- 
lations were  quite  rudimentary.  But  they  could  not  remain 
so.  The  demand  for  mythological  completeness  was  still 
too  strong  to  be  neglected.  The  blank  spaces  had  to 
be  filled  up,  and  they  were  filled  up  by  traditions  from 
other  sources.  There  was  an  eager  hunt  for  such  adjuncts, 
and  where  were  they  more  likely  to  be  found  than  in 
isolated  local  legends,  in  the  records  of  foreign  peoples, 
and  especially  in  those  of  nations  with  a  halo  of  imme- 
morial civilization  .-'  These  three  elements — original  cos- 
mogonic  speculation,  the  local  legends  of  Greece,  and 
the  complementary  traditions  of  foreign  people — would 
constitute  the  threads  on  which  the  new  learning  was 
strung.  That  such  was  really  the  fact  may  be  gathered 
from  a  glance  at  the  contents,  and  above  all  at  the  character, 
of  the  Orphic  and  allied  doctrines.  The  admixture  is  clearly 
seen  in  the  theory  of  origin  propounded  by  Pherecydes 
of  Syros.  We  place  him  at  the  head,  not  by  any  means 
because  he  is  the  oldest,  but  because  he  is  the  first  repre- 
sentative of  this  movement  whose  date  can  be  fixed  with 
well-nigh   absolute   certainty.     About    the    middle    of   the 


86  GREEK  THINKERS. 

sixth  century  B.C.,  he  published  a  prose  composition 
under  the  title  of  Pentemychos,  out  of  which  some 
verbatim  quotations  have  come  down  to  our  times.  He 
was  influenced  by  older  co-religionists,  one  of  whom,  the 
poet  Onomacritus,  is  known  to  us  by  name.  He  lived  at 
the  court  of  Pisistratus,  tyrant  of  Athens,  where  he  founded 
an  Orphic  community,  though  how  far  he  was  the  disciple 
and  prophet  of  the  Orphic  doctrines  we  are  hardly  able 
to  say.  Pherecydes  was  further  devoted  to  astronomical 
research.  He  probably  borrowed  the  principles  of  the 
science  from  Babylon,  and  his  observatory  was  for  a  long 
time  one  of  the  sights  which  were  shown  to  visitors  to 
Syros.  As  a  philosopher,  then,  he  recognized  three  pri- 
mordial beings — Chronos,  or  the  Time-principle  ;  Zeus, 
whom  he  called  Zas  ;  and  Chthonie,  the  goddess  of  earth. 
The  variant  "  Zas "  was  doubtless  connected  with  that 
signification  of  the  name  which  we  have  already  met  in 
Heraclitus,  and  which  sought  to  represent  the  chief  of 
the  gods  as  the  highest  principle  of  life.  From  the  seed 
of  Chronos  sprang  "  Fire,  Air,  and  Water,"  and  from 
these  again  "  many  generations  of  the  gods."  In  later 
and  therefore  possibly  contaminated  traditions  we  come 
across  two  more  elements  under  the  names  of  "  Smoke  " 
and  "  Darkness  ; "  and  thus  the  quintett  of  first  principles 
alluded  to  in  the  title  of  Pherecydes'  work  is  completed. 
Each  was  originally  supposed  to  inhabit  a  separate  region 
of  the  world.  But  a  battle  of  the  gods  broke  out  in  which 
Ophioneus,  the  serpent-god,  and  his  followers  attacked 
Chronos  and  his  attendant  deities.  The  struggle  closed 
with  the  disappearance  of  one  set  of  combatants  in  the 
sea,  which  figures  in  Pherecydes  as  "  Ogenos,"  presumably 
a  Babylonian  name  corresponding  to  the  Greek  Okeanos. 
Some  further  features  of  his  cosmology  may  be  noted. 
Zas,  or  Zeus,  is  transformed  as  the  creator  of  the  world 
into  the  Love-god  Eros  ;  next  he  fashions  "  a  mighty 
and  beautiful  garment  wherein  are  inwrought  the  pictures 
of  Earth  and  Ogenos  and  his  habitations,"  and  this  garment 
he  spreads  over  "the  winged  oak;"  lastly,  "beneath  the 
Earth    is  the  region  of  Tartarus  guarded  by  the  Harpies 


HIS   COSMOGONY.  87 

and  Thyella,  the  daughters  of  Boreas,  whither  a  god  who 
sins  by  overweening  pride  is  ever  hurled  by  Zas."  Add 
to  this  that  Chthonie  changes  her  name  to  Ge  "after  Zas 
had  given  her  the  earth  as  her  portion,"  and  that  Rhea 
the  mother  of  the  gods  is  called  Rhe,  perhaps  to  counter- 
balance Ge,  and  our  account  of  Pherecydes'  teachings  about 
the  gods  and  the  world  is  complete  as  far  as  we  know  it. 
It  is  a  wonderful  mixture  of  a  little  science,  a  bit  of 
allegory,  and  a  lump  of  mythology.  Let  us  try  to  find 
our  bearings  in  the  maze  of  speculation.  Our  thinker  is 
at  one  with  the  "physiologists"  in  his  recognition  of  first 
principles  dating  from  eternity,  and  in  his  endeavour  to 
derive  the  manifold  forms  of  the  material  world  from  a 
few  fundamental  elements.  Another  and  very  characteristic 
point  of  agreement  is  this,  that  he  represents  the  bulk  of 
the  minor  gods  as  proceeding  from  those  material  elements. 
But  he  parts  company  from  them  in  the  following  details  : 
He  does  not  go  as  far  as  the  "  physiologists "  in  the 
reduction  of  matter,  so  as  to  recognize  a  single  funda- 
mental element.  If  we  understand  him  correctly,  he  does 
not  even  refer  to  air  as  an  independent  element.  But, 
above  all,  his  elements  are  not  primeval.  Primary  beings 
take  their  place  in  that  respect,  and  are  not  conceived  as 
coarsely  material.  From  them  the  material  elements  are 
supposed  to  spring.  This  mode  of  origin  is  specified 
merely  of  the  three  elements  operating  in  the  upper 
world.  Still,  the  parallelism  in  his  account  seems  to 
warrant  the  assumption  that  the  two  materials  belonging 
to  the  region  of  Darkness — our  acquaintance  with  which 
is  solely  due  to  chance  references  in  S.  Augustine — arc 
likewise  to  be  traced  to  the  serpent-god  presiding  in  the 
under-world.  It  is  tempting  to  speak  in  this  connection 
of  the  middle  place  taken  by  our  "  theologian  "  between 
Hesiod  on  the  one  side  and  the  nature-philosophers  on 
the  other.  But  this  would  not  be  an  exhaustive  account 
of  the  matter.  The  chief  parts  in  the  "  Theogony  " — apart 
from  certain  divine  principles — are  sustained  by  natural 
agents  conceived  as  possessing  souls,  such  as  the  "  broad- 
bosomed    Earth,"   the   "  wide  heaven,"   and   many  others. 


88  GREEK   THINKERS. 

In  the  instance  of  Pherecydes,  it  is  no  longer  legitimate  to 
speak  of  natural  fetishes.  Zas  and  Chronos  appear  rather 
as  spiritual  beings,  and  Chthonie  is  expressly  distinguished 
from  "  Earth,"  whose  name  the  goddess  does  not  bear  till 
she  has  received  the  material  earth  from  the  hands  of  Zas. 
We  may  imagine  Pherecydes  stating,  "  The  earth-spirit 
precedes  the  earth  and  is  joined  later  with  the  earth  as  the 
soul  is  with  the  body."  Here  there  is  foreshadowed  a 
mode  of  thought  which  has  no  little  bearing  on  the 
conception  of  body  and  soul,  characteristic  of  the 
Orphics,  strictly  so  called,  as  well  as  of  Pherecydes 
himself. 

We  have  noted  the  statement  that  a  battle  of  the  gods 
preceded  the  final  disposition  of  the  world,  and  we  meet  it 
so  frequently  in  Greek  and  non-Greek  mythologies  alike, 
that  it  is  not  surprising  to  find  it  again  in  Pherecydes.  A 
twofold  consideration  probably  lies  at  the  root  of  this  wide- 
spread belief,  and  its  obvious  connection  with  the  thought 
of  primitive  man  makes  it  not  unworthy  of  mention.  He 
could  hardly  have  looked  on  the  rule  of  law  as  an  imme- 
morial fact,  for  he  ascribed  to  the  powers  whom  he  postu- 
lated behind  the  visible  world  a  will  and  passions  as  strong 
and  as  unbridled  as  belonged  to  the  superior  members  of 
human  society — the  sole  society  which  he  knew,  and  which 
was  far  removed  from  discipline  and  law.  And  if,  thus, 
primitive  man  must  have  held  that  the  regularity  which  he 
observed  in  natural  phenomena  was  the  arbitrary  law  imposed 
by  the  victors  on  the  "vanquished,  this  presumption  would 
be  strengthened  by  the  fact  that  the  most  powerful  factors 
in  nature  are,  comparatively  speaking,  but  seldom  in  the 
exercise  of  their  full  force.  Earthquakes,  tempests,  and 
active  volcanoes  form  but  rare  and  short  interruptions  of  the 
prevalent  peace  of  nature.  This  state  of  things,  men  would 
argue,  could  not  have  dated  from  everlasting.  The  terrible 
powers  inimical  to  man  must  at  one  time  have  reigned 
unmolested.  Yet  mightier  powers  must  then  have  engaged 
them  in  conflict,  and  their  ultimate  defeat  in  that  struggle 
would  account  for  the  restricted  limits  of  their  sway.  The 
more  closely  we  examine  the  features  of  the  battle  of  the 


EARLIEST   OF   THE   ECLECTICS.  89 

gods  according  to  the  version  of  Pherecydes,  the  more  we 
are  reminded  in  many  details  of  Babylonian  cosmology. 
Eminent  scholars,  indeed,  incline  to  the  theory  of  plagiar- 
ism. Further,  when  Zas  transforms  himself  into  the  god 
of  love  to  assist  his  creation  of  the  world,  we  have  not  far 
to  look  to  discover  the  source  of  this  legend.  Hesiod  has 
already  familiarized  us  with  the  thought  borrowed  from 
organic  life  and  extended  by  a  process  of  generalization, 
that  it  is  the  procreative  instinct  alone  which  unites  con- 
genial elements  and  warrants  the  continuity  of  existing 
orders  and  races.  And  the  Hesiodic  account  is  set  in  such 
rigid  lines  that  we  perceive  that  the  theory  must  have 
flourished  long  before  he  adopted  it.  We  must  probably 
look  to  the  worship  of  the  love-god  in  some  ancient  sanctu- 
aries— that  of  Thespiae  in  Boeotia,  for  instance — for  the 
home  of  the  mythical  speculation  touching  the  "love  that 
built  the  world."  And,  finally,  we  may  fairly  conjecture  that 
the  garment  spread  by  Zas  over  the  winged  oak  was  merely 
a  pictorial  expression  of  the  belief  that  the  kernel  or 
framework  of  earth  was  adorned  by  this  first  principle  of 
life  with  the  beauty  that  it  now  wears.  Moreover,  there 
is  considerable  plausibility  in  the  recent  conjecture  that 
Pherecydes  attributed  wings  to  the  framework  of  earth 
because  he  had  rejected  the  disc-and-basin  theory  of  earth 
which  Thales  maintained  in  favour  of  Anaximander's  con- 
ception of  the  earth  floating  freely  in  space.  Lastly,  it  is 
not  so  much  the  detailed  doctrines  of  the  "theologian  "  of 
Syros  that  vex  our  understanding  as  the  habit  of  mind 
from  which  they  directly  sprang,  and  which  wavered  so 
strangely  between  science  and  myth.  We  have  no  reason 
to  question  the  earnest  enthusiasm  by  which  Pherecydes 
was  inspired,  nor  is  his  memory  sullied  by  any  trace  of 
miracle- mongery.  Accordingly,  the  problem  he  presents 
is  difficult  to  solve.  He  offers  a  minute  description  of  thi; 
origin  of  the  gods  and  the  world,  and  yet  he  was  no  poet  ; 
he  assumes  the  confidence  of  the  orthodox  believer,  and 
yet  he  was  a  stranger  to  the  "fine  frenzy"  of  inspiration 
in  which  the  secrets  of  the  universe  are  revealed.  We  at 
least   can   suggest   no  other  solution    of   the    riddle    than 


90  GREEK   THINKERS. 

that  alluded  to  above.  Pherecydes  may  have  owed  some 
features  of  his  doctrine,  especially  in  his  theory  of  the 
elements,  to  his  own  speculative  thought ;  some  other 
features,  as  we  have  seen,  he  borrowed  from  the  researches 
of  his  predecessors  ;  but  the  brilliant  picture  as  a  whole 
cannot  have  been  composed  by  either  of  these  methods. 
It  was  indebted  to  native  and  foreign  traditions  alike. 
The  philosopher  believed  them  because  they  agreed  in 
principle  with  his  own  conclusions,  and  on  that  account  he 
turned,  changed,  and  fused  them  with  a  licence  which  he 
himself  failed  to  realize.  Nothing  is  at  once  so  difficult 
and  so  indispensable  to  our  task  as  to  frame  a  conception 
of  the  imperfect  state  of  criticism  at  that  day.  Many 
separate  legends  it  did  away  with  altogether.  Others  which 
rested  on  precisely  the  same  foundation  it  adopted  with 
complete  faith,  so  that  its  attitude  towards  tradition  in 
general,  so  far  from  being  systematic,  was  of  the  kind 
which  naively  expected  to  discover  a  key  to  the  deepest 
secrets  of  the  universe  in  the  names  and  fables  of  individual 
gods.  Pherecydes,  then,  may  be  regarded  as  one  of  the 
earliest  representatives  of  that  half-critical,  half-credulous 
eclecticism  which  serves  to  typify  so  many  thinkers  of 
other  peoples  and  times. 

3.  The  life  and  teaching  of  the  founder  of  the  Orphic 
sect  were  subject  to  the  same  disadvantage  which  we  meet 
in  other  religious  communities.  Diverse  and  contradic- 
tory reports  accompanied  or  succeeded  one  another.  In 
our  opinion  it  would  be  wholly  as  illegitimate  to  speak 
of  "  forgery  "  or  "  apocryphal "  writings  in  this  connection 
as  in  that  of  the  second  covenant  of  Moses  in  the  Old 
Testament,  or  of  the  doctrine  of  the  Logos  in  the  New. 
Thus  the  Orphic  theory  of  cosmogony  appears  in  various 
recensions  whose  consecution  in  time  it  is  impossible  to 
fix  with  certainty.  And  we  may  even  assume  that  several 
of  them  were  current  at  the  same  time  without  supposing 
that  their  readers  were  more  repelled  by  the  contradictions 
they  contained  than  the  students  of  other  holy  writings. 
Four  such  versions  or  fragments  of  them  have  come  down 
to  our  time,     (i)  We  owe  one  of  these  versions  to  Eudemus, 


THE    ORPHIC   COSMOGONIES.  9 1 

the  historian  of  science  and  disciple  of  Aristotle.  Unfortu- 
nately, his  account  has  dwindled  down  to  little  more  than 
the  bare  mention  that  Night  in  Pherecydes  was  the  supreme 
primary  being.  The  conception  is  interesting  as  reminding 
us  of  the  Homeric  verse  which  relates  how  Zeus  was  re- 
frained from  acting  contrary  to  Night,  where  we  see  the  faint 
gleam  of  the  belief  that  Night  was  superior  even  to  the  father 
of  the  gods.  The  Maoris,  too,  recognize  "  a  first  mother, 
Night,"  and  the  doctrine  comes  to  frequent  expression  in 
the  cosmogony  of  the  Greeks  themselves.  It  plays  the  chief 
part  in  the  legendary  Musaeus  no  less  than  in  Epimenides 
the  seer,  in  Acusilaus  the  fabulist,  as  well  as  in  a  fourth 
writer  whose  name  is  unknown.  (2)  We  need  hardly 
mention  the  second  version,  which  consists  of  a  dozen 
verses  describing  the  origin  of  the  world  put  by  Apollonius, 
the  Alexandrian  poet,  in  his  "  Argonautica  "  into  the  mouth 
of  Orpheus.  For  while  it  makes  no  claim  to  historical 
value,  its  contents  would  wholly  disqualify  it  from  making 
good  such  a  claim.  The  principle  of  "  Discord,"  which 
here  divides  the  four  elements,  is  taken,  with  the  elements 
themselves,  from  the  young  nature-philosopher  Empedoclcs. 
Next  the  battle  of  the  gods  is  described  in  partial  agree- 
ment with  Pherecydes,  and  the  slight  departures  that  arc 
made  do  not  create  an  impression  of  any  greater  faithfulness 
to  tradition.  Pherecydes,  for  instance,  makes  Ophioneus  and 
Chronos  fight  for  the  mastery  and  gives  the  upper  world  to 
the  victor  and  the  under  world  to  the  vanquished  as  their 
habitation  and  empire.  In  Apollonius,  however,  we  find 
Ophioneus  in  possession  of  Olympus,  and  as  serpent-beings 
belong  by  nature  and  accordingly  by  myth  to  the  region 
of  earth,  we  cannot  but  recognize  here  a  further  divagation 
from  the  original  form  of  the  legend,  and  an  artificial 
continuation  of  it.  (3)  Nor  need  the  third  version  delay 
us  long.  It  is  expressly  stated  by  its  authorities  to  be 
opposed  to  the  current  Orphic  doctrine,  and  its  distinctive 
features,  which  rest  on  the  evidence  of  Ilicronymus  and 
Mellanicus,  witnesses  of  doubtful  date  and  personality,  are 
by  no  means  such  as  to  warrant  a  resi)cctab]e  antifiuity.  (4)  It 
is  completely  otherwise  with  the  fourth  and  last  version  of 


92  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Orphic  theogony  and  cosmogony,  which  was  formerly  con- 
tained in  the  so-called  "  Rhapsodies."  Modern  scholarship, 
following  the  masterly  lead  of  Christian  August  Lobeck,  has 
found  clear  evidence  that  it  was  known  to  the  poets  and 
thinkers  of  the  sixth  century  B.C.,  and  was  employed  by  them ; 
and  the  arguments  hitherto  and  still  levelled  against  this 
claim  to  antiquity  have  been  shown  to  be  completely  in- 
valid. This  controversy  involves  some  important  questions 
of  principle,  and  we  cannot  altogether  avoid  it.  First,  how- 
ever, we  should  enumerate  the  chief  contents  of  this  theory 
of  cosmogony.  As  in  Pherecydes,  Chronos  or  the  Time- 
principle  stands  once  more  at  its  head.  It  existed  from 
eternity,  whereas  Light-stuff  or  Fire-stuff,  under  the  name 
of  ^ther,  and  the  "  huge  gulf  "  under  the  name  of  Chaos, 
came  next  into  existence.  Then  "  mighty  Chronos  "  formed 
"  a  silver  ^^^  "  out  of  ^ther  and  Chaos  with  its  contents 
of  "  dark  mist."  From  the  "  egg  "  sprang  the  first-born 
of  the  gods,  who  is  variously  known  as  Phanes  the  shining 
one,  Eros  the  love-god,  Metis  or  counsel,  and  Ericapaeus, 
a  name  which  has  not  yet  been  interpreted.  As  the  reposi- 
tory of  all  the  seeds  of  being,  Phanes  was  at  once  male  and 
female,  and  produced  spontaneously  Night  and  Echidna,  a 
horrible  serpent-deity,  and  with  Night  Uranus  and  Gaia, 
heaven  and  earth,  the  progenitors  of  the  "  secondary  race  " 
of  the  gods.  We  shall  not  dwell  on  the  Titans,  Giants, 
Moirae,  and  the  Hecatonchires,  for  the  account  given  of 
them  in  the  Orphic  theogony  differs  hardly  at  all  from 
that  of  Hesiod.  Further,  Chronos  and  Rhea  belong  to  the 
secondary  generation  of  gods.  But  their  son  "  Zeus,  at 
once  head  and  centre  and  author  of  all  things,"  "  Zeus  the 
cause  of  the  earth  and  of  the  star-sown  heaven,"  swallows 
Phanes,  and  thus  becomes  the  universal  progenitor  in  his 
turn,  and  the  father  of  the  third  and  youngest  race  of  the 
gods  and  of  the  whole  visible  world. 

We  have  now  to  try  to  master  the  fundamental  principle 
of  this  theory,  to  acquaint  ourselves  with  its  peculiar 
characteristics,  to  discover  as  far  as  possible  its  historical 
sources,  and  thus  to  contribute  our  share  to  the  solu- 
tion of  the  problem   mentioned  above.     The  impression 


FUNDAMENTAL    THOUGHTS.  93 

forces  itself  on  our  belief  that  the  separate  parts  of  this 
cosmogony    are   not  fully   homogeneous,    but    have    been 
gradually  fused    into  a   complete  whole.      For   it   seems, 
if  not  in  actual  contradiction,  at  least  alien  to  the  nature 
of  myths  that  ^ther,  the  element  of  light  and  fire,  should 
appear  at   an    earlier   stage   of  the   cosmic   process   than 
Phanes,   whose   name    signifies    "shining,"    and    who    is 
represented    as   the    first-born    of   the   gods.      Mythology 
always  aims  at  strong  effects,  and  has  no  taste  for  anti- 
climax.    We  are  thus  led  to  imagine  that  two  streams  of 
speculative  myth-making  have  here  mingled  their  waters ; 
the  one  would  display  more  naturalistic  features,  and  the 
other  would  allow  for  the  creative  activity  of  proper  god- 
like  beings.     If  we   look    for   the   actual   thought   which 
found    its   mythical  expression    in    the   first  part   of  that 
cosmogony,    we   should   cast    it   somewhat    in   this   form  : 
As  a  plant  unfolds  and  grows  under  the  animating  rays  of 
the  sun,  so  "  the  world  was  formed  in  course  of  time  out 
of  the  matter  floating  darkly  in  space  under  the  influence 
of  light   and  heat."     A  second    and  essentially   different 
thought   may  be  expressed  as  follows:     "A  divine  being 
of  light  sprang,  in  order  to  create   the  world,  out  of  the 
original  shapeless  darkness."     In  the  passages  of  Orphic 
poetry    where    Phanes    is    designated    as     "the    son    of 
resplendent   ^Ethcr "  we   find  a  link   between   these  two 
views.     Similarly,  the  fable  of  the  world-egg  would  seem 
no  longer  to  confront   us   in  its  original  form.     It    must 
obviously  have  been  first  invented  by  some  such  argument 
as  this  :     The  world   is   alive,    and    it    must   have   had    a 
beginning.     Its  origin,  continued  the  argument,  must  be 
like  that  of  a  living  being  ;  and  then   the  round   vault    of 
heaven    reminded    the   authors   of   this   argument   of   the 
shape  of  an  egg.     Such  an  g^^,  they  inferred,  would  once 
have  existed,  and  when  it  burst,  its  upper  portion  went  tcj 
form  the  dome  of  the  sky,  the  lower  part  engendered  the 
earth  and  all  that  is  therein.     We  are  by  no  means  com- 
mitted  to  the   belief  that  the   transformation  of  the  fable 
of  the  world-egg  took  place  on  the  soil  of  Greece.     It  is, 
indeed,   a    world-wide     myth.      It    is   found     not    merely 


94  GREEK   THINKERS. 

among  the  Greeks,  the  Persians,  and  the  Indians,  but 
these  share  it  in  common  with  Phoenicia,  Babylon,  and 
with  Egypt,  where,  indeed,  it  appears  in  precisely  the 
same  form  as  in  the  Orphic  cosmogony.  We  may  quote, 
for  instance,  the  following  Egyptian  account  of  the  creation 
of  the  world  : — 

"  In  the  beginning  was  neither  heaven  nor  earth.  The  universe 
was  surrounded  by  thick  darkness,  and  was  filled  with  boundless 
water  [known  to  the  Egyptians  as  Nun]  which  carried  in  its  lap 
the  germs  of  male  and  female,  or  the  beginnings  of  the  future 
world.  The  divine  First  Spirit,  inseparable  from  the  watery  First 
Matter,  felt  an  impulse  to  create  activity,  and  his  word  called  the 
world  into  life.  .  .  .  The  first  act  of  creation  began  with  the 
formation  of  an  egg  out  of  the  elemental  waters,  and  from  the  egg 
went  forth  Ra  the  Daylight,  the  direct  source  of  earthly  life." 

In  another  version — and  it  may  not  be  useless  to  notice 
the  variations  of  the  legend  in  the  valley  of  the  Nile — 
it  was  the  "god  Ptah  who,  according  to  his  worshippers, 
turned  the  q.%^,  from  which  the  world  issued,  like  a  potter 
on  his  wheel."  It  will  not  have  escaped  the  attentive 
reader  that  in  the  male  and  female  germs  mentioned  in 
the  Egyptian  fable  a  parallel  is  found  to  the  Light-god 
of  the  Orphic  legend  who  creates  the  world  and  whose 
nature  combines  both  male  and  female  attributes.  We 
are  yet  more  strongly  reminded  by  the  twofold  nature  of 
Phanes  of  the  epicene  godheads  who  occur  by  no  means 
infrequently  in  the  Babylonian  Pantheon.  Add  to  this 
that,  according  to  the  unimpeachable  testimony  of  Eudemus, 
the  Phoenician  cosmogony  reproduces  the  Time-principle 
that  stands  at  the  head  of  our  cosmogony,  not  to  speak  of 
the  Persian  Avesta,  where  it  appears  as  Zrvan  Akarana  or 
boundless  time,  and  our  readers  will  have  been  suffi- 
ciently familiarized  with  the  thought  that  foreign  traditions 
exercised  no  inconsiderable  influence  on  the  origin  of  the 
Orphic  doctrine.  The  centre  from  which  these  lights  radi- 
ated may  almost  certainly  be  identified  with  the  country 
which  was  not  merely  one  of  the  oldest  homes,  but  practically 
the  cradle  of  human  civilization  ;  it  was  the  country  ruled  by 


FOREIGN  INFLUENCES.  95 

Babylon  and  situated  between  the  Euphrates  and  the  Tigris. 
In  stating  this  conviction,  we  are  prepared  to  encounter 
opposition.  We  shall  draw  on  our  heads  the  bitter  con- 
tempt of  many  worthy  antiquarians  who  would  regard  it 
as  derogatory  to  the  Greeks  to  send  them  to  school  among 
older  civilized  nations,  and  to  assume  them  to  have  bor- 
rowed thence  the  sources  of  their  knowledge  and  belief. 
But  the  narrow-minded  obstinacy  which  would  rigidly 
isolate  the  Greeks  and  withdraw  them  from  the  influence 
of  other  and  older  civilizations,  cannot  possibly  be  main- 
tained in  the  face  of  the  evidence  which  is  constantly 
presented  with  stronger  and  clearer  force.  To-day  hardly 
any  one  attempts  to  deny  that  the  Greeks  owe  to  the 
Orient  the  elements  of  material  civilization  as  well  as  the 
beginnings  of  their  art,  though  a  score  of  years  ago  this  pro- 
position was  disputed  with  equal  confidence  and  vehemence. 
The  same  views  would  be  valid  in  the  spheres  of  science  and 
religion  if  their  acceptation  had  not  been  checked  by  the 
hasty,  partial,  and  unsystematic  efforts  of  previous  genera- 
tions. But  here,  too,  the  opposition  must  finally  be  van- 
quished. Though  it  is  led  by  men  as  illustrious  as  Lobeck, 
whom  we  have  mentioned  above,  yet  it  must  ultimately  yield 
to  the  unprejudiced  and  universal  appreciation  of  historical 
facts.  At  this  point  a  question  might  be  asked  as  to  the 
means  by  which  religious  and  speculative  views  were  trans- 
ferred from  the  older  nations  to  Greece,  and  the  problem  re- 
calls a  striking  parallel  from  the  literary  history  of  mediaeval 
Europe.  Practically  the  entire  fairy-lore  of  the  Occident 
is  derived  from  India.  No  one  disputes  this  assertion 
to-day,  but  no  one  as  yet  can  give  a  completely  clear 
account  of  the  ways  and  means  by  which  its  journey  was 
accomplished.  The  Greeks,  as  we  have  seen,  came  at  an 
early  time  into  frequent  and  intimate  contact  with  foreign 
peoples  as  soldiers  and  merchants,  as  adventurous  seamen 
and  warlike  settlers.  They  would  meet  in  the  camp,  at 
the  bazaar,  and  in  the  caravanserai.  They  would  exchange 
ideas  on  the  starlit  decks  of  merchant  vessels  or  in  the 
intimate  darkness  of  the  nuptial  chamber  when  a  Greek 
settler  took  a  native  as  his  bride,  and   it  is  likely  enough 


96  GREEK   THINKERS. 

that  their  confidences  on  such  occasions  would  have  ranged 
from  earth  to  heaven.  Other  circumstances,  too,  contributed 
to  the  welcome  extended  to  foreign  doctrines  of  religion. 
From  them  the  Greek  had  already  borrowed  several  of  his 
gods  and  heroes,  such  as  the  Semitic  Astoreth  (Afthoret  or 
Aphrodite),  and  Adonis  her  lover,  and  later  the  Thracian 
Bendis  and  the  Phrygian  Cybele  ;  and  as  his  ancient  native 
traditions  failed  more  and  more  to  satisfy  his  increasing 
curiosity  and  thirst  for  knowledge,  foreign  sources  would  be 
drawn  on  more  freely  in  an  age  of  acute  intellectual  vigour 
and  progress.  Moreover,  national  pride  was  no  great  op- 
posing force.  The  Greeks  were  always  ready  to  recognize 
their  own  gods  in  those  of  other  nations,  and  to  reconcile 
contradictions  between  native  and  foreign  traditions  by  their 
nimble  and  pliant  genius  for  adaptation.  This  process, 
which  was  developed  to  a  remarkable  degree,  is  admirably 
illustrated  by  many  amusing  instances  in  Herodotus.  To 
revert  to  Babylon  and  its  central  and  important  position 
in  the  history  of  religion,  the  striking  results  of  modern 
research  may  be  summarized  quite  briefly.  A  few  years 
ago  the  present  writer  was  desirous  of  establishing  the 
possibility  of  the  transference  of  religious  doctrines  from 
Mesopotamia  to  Egypt.  To  that  end  he  was  at  pains  to 
collect  a  mass  of  evidence  directed  to  prove  the  early  and 
active  intercourse  of  the  inhabitants  of  both  countries. 
This  evidence  may  now  be  cheerfully  committed  to  the 
waste-paper  basket,  since  it  has  been  more  than  confirmed 
by  the  splendid  discoveries  of  a  yet  later  date.  I  refer  to 
the  cuneiform  archive  found  at  El-Amarna  in  Egypt,  which 
contains  a  diplomatic  correspondence  between  the  monarchs 
of  both  empires  written  about  fifteen  hundred  years  B.C. 
Nor  is  its  interest  exhausted  by  its  contents.  In  conjunc- 
tion with  the  latest  finds  at  Lachish  in  Palestine,  it  shows 
us  that  the  language  and  writing  of  Babylon  were  a  current 
means  of  intercourse  in  wide  regions  of  Western  Asia  ;  that 
they  found  exact  scholars  in  Egypt  itself;  that,  finally,  to 
the  confusion  of  the  incredulous,  the  Egyptians  took  suffi- 
cient interest  in  the  rehgious  traditions  of  Babylon,  to 
transcribe    some    of   them    from    the    brick    libraries     of 


PANTHEISTIC   FEATURES.  97 

Mesopotamian  sanctuaries,  where  they  had  lain  since  hoary 
antiquity.  Further,  to  prove  that  India  was  likewise  not 
unaffected  by  the  influence  of  that  centre  of  civilization, 
we  may  cite  a  single  significant  word  which  was  borrowed 
from  Babylon.  The  term  "Mine"  as  a  token  of  weight 
occurs  in  the  hymns  of  the  Rig- Veda.  The  lands  of  the 
Euphrates  and  Tigris,  and  those  of  the  Indus  and  Ganges, 
stood  of  old  in  reciprocal  relations  of  culture,  and  the 
addition  of  important  evidence  to  this  effect  will,  we  trust, 
be  presently  published  by  an  eminent  authority. 

But  after  this  necessary  digression,  let  us  revert  to  our 
subject.  The  swallowing  of  Phanes  by  Zeus  is  fashioned 
on  older  precedents.  Chronos,  for  instance,  swallowed 
his  children,  and  Zeus  again  swallowed  Metis,  and  Athene, 
with  whom  she  was  pregnant,  then  sprang  from  his  head. 
But  the  use  of  this  crude  motive  would  appear  to  have 
been  governed  by  a  desire  to  unite  a  congeries  of  myths 
into  a  harmonious  whole.  At  the  root  of  it  there  obviously 
lies  an  older  pantheistic  conception  of  the  supreme  god 
bearing  within  him  all  "  the  force  and  seeds  of  life." 
But  now  that  the  new  cosmogony  ascribed  the  generative 
part  to  Phanes,  or  the  god  of  light,  some  means  had  to  be 
found  of  rescuing  that  dignity  from  "  the  first-born  of  the 
gods  "  on  whom  mythology  had  hastily  bestowed  it,  and  of 
conferring  it  in  turn  on  the  last  ruler  of  the  world  as  the 
final  link  in  the  long  chain  of  the  races  of  gods.  A  doubt, 
entirely  baseless  in  our  opinion,  has  been  thrown  on  the 
antiquity  of  the  Orphic  doctrine  on  account  of  this  pan- 
theistic current.  If  we  recall  the  uncompromisingly 
pantheistic  trend  of  the  oldest  nature-philosophers,  or  if 
we  remember  that  before  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century 
yEschylus  ventured  from  the  stage  to  address  the  assembled 
people  of  Athens  in  verses  like  the  following : — 

'■  Zeus  is  the  heaven,  Zeus  the  earlh,  Zeus  the  air, 
Zeus  is  the  universe  and  all  besides," 

we  shall  not  hesitate  to  believe  that  this  comparatively 
tame  pantheism  flourished  in  the  sixth  or  even  in  the 
seventh  century  in  the  restricted  circle  of  the  Orphic  con- 
venticles. Considerable  points  of  agreement  no  less  than 
VOL.   I.  II 


98  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  divergence  result  from  a  comparison  of  this  theory  as  a 
whole  with  that  of  Pherecydes.  Chronos,  /Ether,  and 
Chaos  correspond  to  Pherecydes'  trinity  of  primary  Beings — 
Chronos,  Zas,  and  Chthonie.  Hesiod  has  already  acquainted 
us  with  Chaos  and  .^ther,  but  their  present  place  and 
constitution  have  in  some  respects  been  changed.  The 
Hesiodic  yEther  is  but  one  of  several  beings  of  light  ;  it 
ranks  by  no  means  as  a  favourite.  Chaos,  too,  has  altered 
its  nature.  It  is  no  longer  merely  the  symbol  of  the  gulf 
yawning  between  the  highest  height  and  the  lowest  depth  ; 
it  represents  a  "  dark  mist,"  a  mass  of  unorganized  matter 
floating  in  that  gulf.  The  Orphic  yEther,  or  the  light-  and 
fire-stuff,  is  probably  the  animating  or  vivifying  element — 
as  opposed  to  the  inanimate  mass — which  was  refined  and 
clarified  by  Pherecydes  to  Zas,  the  divine  principle  of  life. 
Doubtless  the  same  relation  exists  between  Chaos  and 
Chthonie,  the  spirit  or  godhead  of  the  earth.  So  far  as  a 
definite  statement  can  be  made  on  so  difficult  a  question, 
it  may  be  said  that  the  doctrine  which  stands  philoso- 
phically halfway  between  Hesiod  and  Pherecydes  belongs 
to  an  intermediate  date.  This  view  is  supported  by  the 
observation  that  the  Orphic  theogony  agrees  with  Hesiod 
in  attributing  a  temporal  origin  to  vEther  and  Chaos, 
whereas  the  thinker  of  Syros,  in  rare  and  almost  unique 
conformity  with  the  "  physiologists,"  ascribes  eternal 
existence  to  his  three  world-principles  indifferently.  But 
the  Orphic  attempts  at  cosmology  were  at  the  best  but 
the  work  of  children.  Of  far  greater  moment  and  con- 
sequence were  their  psychological  speculations.  These  are 
connected  with  an  entirely  new  conception  of  life.  They 
parted  company  with  the  old  Hellenism,  undermining  the 
beauty  and  harmony  of  the  Greek  view  of  life,  and  pre- 
paring the  way  for  its  final  overthrow.  But  at  this  point 
the  threads  of  the  Orphic  doctrine  are  so  closely  interwoven 
with  the  threads  of  another  and  deeper  intellectual  move- 
ment, that  we  cannot  continue  till  we  have  considered  this 
course  of  evolution  and  its  o-reat  author. 


{     99     ) 


CHAPTER    III. 

PYTPIAGORAS   AND   HIS   DISCIPLES. 

"  Pythagoras,  son  of  Mnesarchus,  has  practised  research 
and  inquiry  more  than  all  other  men,  and  has  made  up 
his  wisdom  out  of  polymathy  and  out  of  bad  arts."  This 
invective  of  Heraclitus  and  another  quoted  by  us  above, 
comprise  almost  the  sole  contemporary  testimony  to  the 
life-work  of  a  man  whom  an  endless  train  of  disciples  has 
lauded  and  admired  to  the  utmost,  and  whom  posterity  has 
honoured  like  a  demi-god.  Pythagoras  was  born  at  Samos, 
an  island  famous  at  that  time  for  its  navigation,  its 
industry  and  commerce,  between  580  and  570  ]].C.  The 
son  of  Mnesarchus  a  stonecutter,  he  was  one  of  the  most 
original  figures  in  Greece,  and  indeed  in  all  the  world. 
As  a  mathematician  of  brilliant  parts,  as  the  founder  of 
acoustics  and  the  guide  in  untrodden  paths  of  astronomy, 
as  the  author  of  a  religious  sect  and  of  a  brotherhood 
which  admits  comparison  with  the  orders  of  mediaeval 
chivalry,  as  a  man  of  science,  a  theologian,  and  a  moral 
reformer,  Pythagoras  commanded  a  kingdom  of  talents 
of  the  most  composite  and  sometimes  of  the  least  com- 
patible kinds.  It  is  hard  to  rescue  the  prototype  from  the 
flood  of  tradition  which  increases  in  volume  the  further  it 
is  removed  from  the  source.  No  line  from  his  own  pen 
has  been  preserved,  and  it  seems  well-nigh  certain  that  he 
did  not  avail  himself  of  written  communication,  but  relied 
for  his  influence  on  his  disciples  on  the  power  of  the 
spoken  word  and  the  speaking  example. 

According   to   one    tradition,  which    is    not   completely 


lOO  GREEK    THINKERS. 

vouched  for,  Pythagoras  was  the  pupil  of  Pherecydes.     It 
appears  to   be  beyond    doubt    that    he   was    engaged    in 
distant    journeys    which    late    antiquity   has   exaggerated 
into    a    kind    of  Odyssey,    and  the   various    elements    of 
culture  which  he  collected  in  his  travels  formed  the  stones 
of  his  brilliant  house  of  learning.     By  no  other  means,  we 
may  be  confident,  could  he  ever   have  satisfied   his  thirst 
for  knowledge  in    an    age  comparatively  poor    in  literary 
monuments,  and  in  no  other  way  could  he  have  deserved 
the  eulogy  implied  in  the  gibe  of  the  sage  of  Ephesus.     It 
would    have    been    almost    miraculous    if    the    adept    at 
mathematics  had   failed  to  visit  Egypt,  the  cradle  of  that 
science,  whither  a   century  or  two   later   a   Democritus,  a 
Plato,    and    a   Eudoxus  turned   their  steps  for   the  same 
purpose.      Moreover,  it    can  scarcely  be  doubted  that    he 
borrowed    from    the    priesthood    of    Egypt    all    kinds    of 
practices   that  have   ranked  as  distinctive  features  of  his 
foundation.       Herodotus     the      historian,    a     trustworthy 
witness  in  this  instance,  does  not  hesitate  to  speak  of  the 
"  Orphics  and  Bacchics  "  as  "  Pythagoreans  and  Egyptians," 
and   he  hints   emphatically  enough  at   the   like  origin    of 
another  corner-stone  of  Pythagoreanism — the  belief  in  the 
transmigration  of  souls.     Whether  or  not  Pythagoras  saw 
the   golden   spires   of  Babylon,  who   shall   say  .-'     It  is  at 
least  probable  that  the  curious  Greek  would  have  visited 
this  seat   of  immemorial   civilization,  and  have  dipped  in 
its  treasury  of  native  and  foreign  traditions.     When  Samos 
was   ruled   by   the  tyrant    Polycrates,  Pythagoras,  arrived 
at  man's  estate,  left  his  island  home  and  found  in  Southern 
Italy  a  ripe  soil  for  his  experiments  in  reform.     His  chief 
field  of  activity  was  Croton,  famous   at  that   time  for  its 
wholesome    situation,    excellent    physicians,  and    powerful 
athletes,  but  fallen  now  into  decay,  with  its  once  proud  name 
transferred    to    the   miserable   fishing-village   of    Cortona. 
This  Achaean  colony  had  just  been  worsted   in  battle  by 
luxurious  Sybaris,  its   ancient  rival  ;   and  the  humiliating 
defeat   had    prepared    men's    minds   for   moral,  religious, 
and    political    innovations.        The    new    settler   took   ad- 
vantage   of    this    receptive    mood    for    the   promotion   of 


THE    PYTHAGOREAN   COMMUNFTY.  lOI 

his  schemes  of  reform.  He  forthwith  founded  his  com- 
munity, which  admitted  both  men  and  women  in  its 
fold,  and  recognized  distinct  degrees  of  membership  ;  and 
the  ingenious  system  by  which  the  rigours  of  the  order 
were  graduated  extended  its  influence  over  wide  classes 
of  candidates.  The  fruit  of  the  reform  was  a  revival  in 
the  public  spirit,  manifested  by  a  strong  aristocratic 
government  within  the  walls  of  the  city,  and  by  success  in 
arms  abroad  ;  and  this  result  was  not  long  confined  to 
Croton,  but  extended  itself  to  other  cities  in  Magna 
Grzecia,  such  as  Tarentum,  Metapontum,  and  Caulonia. 
A  reaction  was  bound  to  ensue.  The  cohesion  of  the 
aristocrats  in  a  religious  and  social  community  with  beliefs 
and  observances  of  its  own  which  set  them  apart  from  the 
mass  of  the  citizens  as  a  kind  of  poptiliis  in  populo  and 
rendered  them  haughtier  and  less  accessible  than  ever, 
could  not  but  increase  the  bitterness  of  the  existing  battle 
of  the  classes.  The  clamour  for  further  political  rights 
rose  to  a  higher  pitch ;  the  outcry  against  the  foreign 
intruder  and  his  new-fangled  notions  grew  louder,  and  to 
these  manifestations  was  added  the  personal  resentment 
of  unsuccessful  candidates  for  admittance  to  the  brother- 
hood. So  the  Pythagorean  community  in  Croton  was 
doomed.  A  catastrophe  as  horrible  as  that  which  destroyed 
the  Knights  Templar  overtook  it  about  500  I5.C.,  when  its 
members  were  burnt  alive,  presumably  in  their  place  of 
assembly.  The  accounts  are  too  vague  to  enable  us  to 
decide  whether  Pythagoras  himself  was  a  victim,  or  whether 
lie  had  died  at  an  earlier  date.  A  similar  fate  overtook 
the  branches  of  the  order.  True,  there  were  always 
disciples  of  Pythagorism,  but  the  Pythagoreans  as  a 
community  were  destroyed.  In  Greece  itself  the  last 
adherents  of  the  school  lingered  on  in  Boeotia,  where  the 
great  Epaminondas  received  instruction  from  its  members. 
Others  again  went  to  Athens  and  began  the  fusion  of 
Pythagorean  doctrines  with  those  of  other  schools  of 
philosophy,  among  which  that  of  Socrates  was  the  foremost. 
Finally,  Pythagorism  dissolved  into  those  constituent  ele- 
ments   compressed    by    the    force    of     one    great    genius 


I02  GREEK   THINKERS. 

into  the  limits  of  a  system  which  was  anything  but  homo- 
geneous. The  positive  science  of  the  doctrine  and  its 
mathematical  and  physical  methods  fell  to  the  care  of 
specialists,  while  its  religious  and  superstitious  maxims 
and  practices  were  preserved  in  Orphic  circles. 

2.  The  claim  to  immortality  which  this  school  may 
advance  rests  on  its  contributions  to  science.  We  reverently 
do  homage  to  the  genius  of  the  men  who  first  showed  the 
way  to  a  thorough  comprehension  of  the  forces  of  nature 
and  to  their  final  mastery.  And  here  we  must  pause  to 
make  a  remark  of  more  universal  import.  The  ancients 
and  moderns  have  both,  with  partial  correctness,  reproached 
the  Pythagoreans  with  a  want  of  sobriety  and  a  caprice  of 
imagination.  But  it  is  a  pleasure  to  be  able  to  point  out 
that  this  play  of  fancy  and  emotion,  and  the  corresponding 
delight  in  what  is  beautiful  and  harmonious,  though  they 
occasionally  obstructed  the  path  of  scientific  research,  yet 
in  many  decisive  instances  smoothed  the  obstacles  away 
and  lent  wings  to  inquiry.  Pythagoras  was  always  passion- 
ately devoted  to  music,  an  art  to  which  his  disciples  ever 
gave  the  chief  place  among  the  means  for  exciting  and 
appeasing  the  emotions.  And  without  this  kind  of  artistic 
delight  he  would  certainly  never  have  attained  his  insight 
into  the  dependence  of  the  pitch  of  sound  on  the  length 
of  the  vibrating  chord,  which  ranks  as  his  greatest  and 
most  important  discovery.  The  monochord  which  he  used 
for  his  experiments  in  the  physics  of  sound,  "  consisted  of 
a  string  stretched  over  a  resounding-board  with  a  move- 
able bridge,  by  means  of  which  it  was  possible  to  divide 
the  string  into  diff'erent  lengths,  and  thus  to  produce  the 
various  high  and  low  notes  on  one  and  the  same  string." 
Great  was  the  surprise  of  the  inquirer,  well  versed  as  he 
was  both  in  mathematics  and  music,  when  this  simple 
experiment  revealed  at  a  single  stroke  the  most  wonderful 
operations  of  law  in  a  field  hitherto  completely  closed  to 
scientific  investigation.  He  was  still  unable  to  determine 
the  vibrations  on  which  the  separate  sounds  depended, 
but  inasmuch  as  he  could  now  measure  the  vibrating  chord 
which  was  the  material    cause   that  produced   the   sound, 


SOUND   AND   NUMBER.  IO3 

rule  and  law  and  spatial  quantity  were  thus  imposed  on 
something  that  had  hitherto  been  wholly  intangible,  unde- 
finable,  and  almost  of  another  world.  The  history  of 
science  contains  no  luckier  hit  than  this.  In  other 
departments  of  nature,  such  as  those  of  dynamics,  the 
underlying  laws  are  hidden  away  from  the  eye  of  the 
spectator,  and  can  only  be  reached  by  extremely  artificial 
contrivances.  Here,  however,  the  simplest  conceivable 
experiment  sufficed  to  bring  to  light  a  great  regulative 
principle  embracing  a  wide  domain  of  nature.  The 
intervals  between  the  sounds — the  fourth,  the  fifth,  the 
octave,  and  so  forth — which  had  hitherto  solely  been  per- 
ceptible to  the  fine  ear  of  the  professional  musician,  but 
which  could  neither  be  communicated  to  others  nor  referred 
to  comprehensible  causes,  were  now  reduced  to  clear  and 
fixed  numerical  relations.  And  as  soon  as  the  foundations 
had  been  laid  for  the  mechanics  of  sound,  all  other  systems 
of  mechanics  might  seem  to  be  open  to  investigation. 
Great  was  the  delight  aroused  by  this  wonderful  discovery, 
and  we  can  hardly  be  surprised  if  the  further  speculations 
of  the  Pythagoreans  transgressed  the  bounds  of  moderation. 
The  brilliance  and  obscurity  of  their  doctrine  lie  within  a 
step  of  one  another,  and  we  reach  at  once  the  Pythagorean 
mysticism  of  number,  which  strikes  us  at  first  sight  as 
opposed  to  reason  and  understanding.  Sound,  one  of  the 
most  volatile  of  phenomena,  had  been  shown  to  be  measur- 
able in  space.  But  number  is  the  measure  of  all  space  ; 
it  is  the  expression  of  the  regularity  so  suddenly  observed 
to  pervade  every  department  of  nature,  and  it  was  an  easy 
inference  to  regard  it  as  the  heart  and  essence  of  things. 
It  reminds  us  of  the  Ionian  "physiologists"  with  their 
contradictory  and  therefore  fruitless  attempts  to  discover 
the  single  primary  matter  which  underlay  and  survived  all 
change.  The  theories  of  Thales  and  Anaximander  could  not 
give  lasting  satisfaction,  but  their  common  desire  to  discover 
the  fixed  pole  in  the  flight  of  phenomena  could  not  but 
survive  the  failure  of  their  several  experiments.  Then 
came  Pythagoras  and  his  disciples.  Their  astonished  eyes 
were    suddenly  opened   to  the    suggestive    spectacle   of  a 


I04  GREEK   THINKERS. 

universal  uniformity  ruling  nature  and  dependent  on  num- 
bers. What  wonder  if  the  material  principle  was  temporarily 
eclipsed  by  the  formal,  masquerading  as  quasi-material  ? 
The  question  of  a  primary  principle  was  dropped  for  a  time, 
or  rather  it  appeared  in  another  shape.     Fire  and  Air,  and 
Anaximander's    "infinite,"   comprising    all    material    con- 
traries, were   deposed  as  the   Principle  of  the  world,  and 
the  vacant  throne  was  taken  by  Number  as  the  expression 
of  universal  law.     We  have  just  now  marked  the  historical 
explanation  of  this  view,  which,  in  defiance  of  the  natural 
order  of  things,  regarded  Number  as  their  most  intimate 
essence,  and  not  merely  as  the  expression  of  relations  and 
proportions.      We   may   now    reach   the   same   goal   from 
another  point  of  departure.     In  the  researches  undertaken 
by  this  school  the  quality  of  matter  is  of  considerably  less 
account  than  the  forms  which  it  wears  in  space.     But  here 
the  growing  habit  of  abstract  thought  led  the  philosopher 
to  regard  a  conception  as  more  primordial  and  valuable, 
according  as  it  was  more  refined  and  further  removed  from 
concrete  reality.     We  possess  the  faculty  of  dissociating  in 
our  minds  the  body  itself  from  the  planes  in  which  it  lies, 
and  the  planes  from  the  lines  that  bound  them  ;  or,  to  put 
it  more  accurately,  we  can  temporarily  make  abstraction  of 
the  corporeal  and  superficial  areas,  and  regard  the  planes 
and  lines  as  things  existing  by  themselves.     These  abstrac- 
tions, as  Aristotle  expressly  tells  us,  were  accorded  by  the 
Pythagoreans,  not  merely  complete  reality,  but  actually  a 
higher  reality  than  the  concrete  objects  from  which  they 
were  derived.     The  planes,  they  argued,  are  conditional  to 
the  existence  of  the  bodies,  but  can  themselves  exist  without 
them.     And  they  passed  a  similar  judgment  on  the  lines 
in   relation   to  the   planes  ;  and,  finally,  on   the   points  of 
which  the  line  is  composed.     Points  are  the  smallest  units 
of  space.     We  abstract  from   them   not   merely  thickness 
and  breadth,  but   length   likewise,    thus  completing    their 
abstraction   from   spatial   extension.     It   is  an   abstraction 
which   is  of  use  where  the  limits  of  extension   are   con- 
cerned rather  than  extension  as  such.     Now  these  points 
were  identified  by  the  Pythagoreans  with  Unity — that  is, 


THE   DOCTRINE    OF  NUMBER.  105 

with  the  element  of  Number.  Number,  then,  appeared  to 
them  as  a  kind  of  fundamental  principle,  in  which  the 
objective  world  was  not  merely  dissolved  by  thought,  but 
from  which  it  proceeded.  It  was,  as  it  were,  composed 
and  built  up  of  Number,  so  that  the  line  which  consisted 
of  two  points  would  represent  duality,  the  plane  would 
represent  the  conception  of  three,  and  the  body  the  con- 
ception of  four.  This  delusion  was  supported  by  an 
idiosyncrasy  of  Greek  language  and  thought  as  innocent 
in  its  origin  as  it  was  perilous  in  its  consequences.  The 
analogy  between  numbers  and  spatial  relations  led  to  the 
description  of  qualities  of  the  former  by  epithets  which 
are  strictly  appropriate  to  the  latter  alone.  Nor  are  we 
wholly  free  from  the  influence  of  our  masters,  the  Greeks. 
If  we  no  longer  speak  of  oblong  or  cyclic  numbers,  we 
still  have  square  and  cubic  numbers  ;  but  all  that  we  mean 
by  these  phrases  is  that  the  products  stand  to  their  factors 
in  the  same  proportion  as  the  .spatial-content  of  a  plane  or 
body  to  the  key-numbers  of  the  lines  containing  its  super- 
ficial area  or  corporeal  volume.  We  shall  hardly  be  accused 
of  exaggeration  if  we  say  that  this  kind  of  linguistic  artifice 
is  expressly  calculated  to  confuse  a  mind  unversed  in  the 
practice  of  abstraction.  The  parallelism  between  the  two 
series  of  phenomena  would  inevitably  rank  as  identity  ; 
the  spatial  form  or  figure  would  appear  as  substantially  the 
same  as  the  number  indicating  the  mass  of  spatial-units  it 
contained  ;  number  would,  or  could  at  least,  be  regarded  as 
a  principle,  or,  as  we  still  say,  a  "  root "  of  the  plane  and 
consequently  of  the  body  too  ;  the  expression  "raising  a 
number  to  its  cube  "  would  lead  to  the  illusion  that  a  body 
or  object  grew  out  of  Number  as  an  object  is  composed 
out  of  its  elements  ;  and  in  these  misleading  terms  are  we 
not  justified  in  perceiving  the  origin  of  the  whole,  or  at 
least  of  more  than  the  half,  of  the  Pythagorean  doctrine 
of  number .'' 

More  than  half  at  least,  for  one  branch  of  the  doctrine, 
and  that  by  no  means  the  least  important,  seems  at  first 
not  to  be  covered  by  this  explanation.  Number  was  the 
ultimate  basis  of  the  spiritual  no  less  than  of  the  material 


I06  GREEK   THINKERS. 

world.  Seven,  for  instance,  was  identified  with  health  ; 
eight  with  Love  and  Friendship,  as  a  harmony  best 
expressed  by  the  octave  ;  Justice  figured  as  a  square 
number,  doubtless  because  the  "  eye  for  eye  "  theory,  of 
retribution  recalled  the  composition  of  a  number  out 
of  two  like  factors.  And  in  instances  where  we  are  noi 
longer  able  to  perceive  the  association  between  numbers 
and  ideas,  the  same  principle  obviously  operated.  But  what 
was  the  purpose  of  this  game  of  thought  played  in  quite 
sober  earnest  .■*  And  how,  we  wonder,  are  we  to  account  for 
the  Pythagorean  numerical  explanation  of  the  essence  of  all 
things  in  the  moral  and  spiritual  world  .''  The  true  answer 
would  probably  take  this  shape  :  As  soon  as  Number  had 
once  been  exalted  to  the  type  of  reality  in  the  physical 
universe,  other  realities  too  would  inevitably  have  been 
co-ordinated  with  the  same  type,  and  in  that  age  and  long 
afterwards  our  abstractions  were  their  realities.  It  is  hard 
for  us  to  conceive  the  dilemma  in  which  they  were  placed. 
They  had  to  choose  between  two  alternatives :  either  they 
must  deny  the  existence  of  health,  virtue,  love,  friendship, 
and  so  forth,  or  they  must  discern  their  inmost  essence  in 
Number,  the  root  of  all  other  reality.  Further,  we  must 
bear  in  mind  the  fascination  exercised  by  numbers  on 
the  senses  of  mankind.  They  do  not  merely  fill  the 
multitude  with  intellectual  delusions,  as  is  shown  in  the 
history  of  religions,  but  strong  men  of  rare  and  subtle 
powers  are  sometimes  liable  to  their  sway.  We  ought  to 
realize  the  intoxicating  force  of  these  all-comprehensive 
abstractions,  working  as  they  did  on  minds  at  home  only 
in  the  thin  air  of  those  intellectual  heights,  or  at  least 
debarred  from  the  counterpoise  afforded  by  gifts  and 
occupations  of  a  widely  differing  kind.  The  sacredness  of 
the  number  three  meets  us  as  early  as  Homer,  where  a 
trinity  of  gods,  Zeus,  Athene,  and  Apollo,  are  addressed 
in  a  single  supplication.  Three,  again,  and  its  square 
play  the  most  prominent  part  in  the  rites  of  the  Greeks 
and  Romans  and  of  the  Eastern  branches  of  the  Aryans. 
We  find  it  in  ancestor  worship,  where  the  father,  grand- 
father, and  great-grandfather  are  selected  out  of  the  whole 


SACRED  NUMBERS.  IO7 

lineage  as  Tritopatores  or  paternal  triad.  We  find  it  again 
in  the  number  of  the  expiatory  sacrifices,  of  the  dedicatory 
offerings,  of  the  funeral  festivals,  of  the  Graces,  the  Fates, 
the  Muses,  and  so  forth,  and  we  need  merely  mention  the 
Indian  Trimurti — Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Siva — and  kindred 
religious  conceptions,  and  the  trinity  of  primary  beings  of 
Pherecydes  and  the  Orphics  generally.  The  Pythago- 
reans sought  to  establish  the  sacred  character  of  this 
number  by  claiming  that  it  contained  a  beginning,  a 
middle,  and  an  end,  an  argument  which  was  not  entirely 
without  effect  on  the  highly  cultivated  mind  of  Aristotle. 
It  is  not  without  surprise  that  we  are  strongly  reminded 
of  the  Pythagorean  doctrine  of  numbers  in  the  speculations 
of  Giordano  Bruno  and  Auguste  Comte.  The  importance 
assigned  to  the  numbers  three,  four,  and  ten  in  the  Comtist 
philosophy  is  replaced  in  the  master's  later  and  religious 
phase  by  the  significance  he  attaches  to  the  prime  numbers. 
Finally,  Lawrence  Oken,  a  leader  of  the  modern  school 
of  "  nature-philosophy,"  did  not  hesitate  to  incorporate  the 
following  sentence  among  his  aphorisms :  "  Everything 
that  is  real,  posited,  finite,  has  become  this  out  of  numbers, 
or,  more  strictly  speaking,  every  Real  is  absolutely  nothing 
else  than  a  number."  After  that  no  one  can  be  astonished 
at  the  curious  teachings  which  issued  from  the  Pytha- 
goreans. We  read  there  without  surprise  that  Unity,  or 
the  Monad,  contains  the  two  fundamental  contraries — the 
Unlimited  and  the  Limited — which  form  the  basis  of  the 
universe  ;  we  are  told  that  their  harmonious  mixture 
engendered  the  numbers  on  which  all  being  depends,  and 
is  thus  accountable  for  the  origin  of  the  world  ;  the  odd 
numbers  correspond  to  the  Limited,  and  the  even  to  the 
Unlimited.  P'urther,  this  doctrine  informs  us  that  the 
number  ten,  as  the  sum  of  the  first  four  numbers,  i  ^-  2 
+  34-4,  is  the  most  perfect  of  all,  and  so  forth,  and  so 
forth.  Nor  need  we  be  astonished  at  the  "table  of  con- 
traries "  which  reached  the  Pythagoreans  from  I^abylon, 
and  was  eagerly  adopted  and  highly  honoured  by  them. 
According  to  that  table,  the  original  opposites  of  the 
Limited  and  the  Unlimited  brought  forth  a  series  of  nine 


Io8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

other  pairs — the  Odd  and  Even,  the  One  and  Many,  the 
Right  and  Left,  the  Male  and  Female,  the  Straight  and 
Crooked,  the  Light  and  Dark,  the  Good  and  Evil,  the 
Square  and  the  Oblong.  At  this  point  there  presently 
arose  a  mist  which  obscured  the  brilliance  of  Plato's  theory 
of  ideas  in  the  mind  of  its  ageing  author,  and  threw  its 
shadow  over  many  of  the  movements  of  more  recent 
speculation.  Towards  the  beginning  of  the  Christian  era 
antiquity,  which  was  falling  in  a  decline,  gathered  the 
multiplicity  of  positive  systems  into  one  collective  whole. 
It  was  a  period  of  decadence,  when  the  palate  of  thought 
required  more  stimulating  diet,  and  the  last  appetizing 
touch  was  added  to  the  philosophic  brew  by  the  mysticism 
of  the  Neo-Pythagoreans. 

We  can  imagine  our  astonished  readers  inquiring  if  the 
pioneers  of  exact  science  were  at  the  same  time  the  pioneers 
and  the  most  influential  prophets  of  mysticism.  The  fact 
is  undoubted,  but  the  astonishment  seems  to  us  to  argue 
an  insufficient  acquaintance  with  the  peculiarities  of  the 
mathematical  temperament.  It  is  true  that  inductive 
reasoning,  lighted  by  the  steady  torch  of  the  sciences  of 
space  and  number,  leads  to  a  brightness  and  clearness 
of  perception  which  may  even  fringe  on  a  one-sided 
disregard  for  the  dark  riddles  of  the  universe.  Experiment 
and  observation,  however,  played  a  comparatively  re- 
stricted part  in  Pythagorean  practice  ;  first,  the  art  of 
experimentation  was  still  in  its  infancy,  and,  secondly,  the 
knowledge  of  mathematics  was  still  too  little  advanced  to 
be  applied  on  an  extensive  scale  in  the  cause  of  physical 
research.  With  the  sole  exception  of  the  fundamental 
experiment  in  acoustics  mentioned  above,  we  are  acquainted 
with  no  other  similar  contribution  on  the  part  of  the 
founder  of  the  school,  though  when  we  remember  the  pro- 
position in  geometry  which  is  called  after  his  name,  and 
his  doctrine  of  proportion,  we  see  that  Pythagoras  was 
of  indisputable  service  to  the  cause  of  the  mathematical 
sciences.  But  a  one-sided  mathematical  genius  shows  very 
different  features.  The  mere  mathematician  tends  inevitably 
to  dogmatic  judgments,  a  tendency  which  is  doubtless  due 


MATHEMATICAL    GENIUS.  IO9 

to  the  fact  that  his  proofs  must  either  be  valid  or  must  fail. 
He  is  a  complete  stranger  to  the  nuances  of  thought,  to  the 
delicate  intellectual  refinement,  and  the  open-minded  plia- 
bility which  characterize  the  historian.  This  contrast  may  be 
illustrated  by  the  polar  examples  of  Heraclitus,  the  father 
of  relativism,  and  the  absolutism  of  the  "  mathematicians." 
The  mathematician's  attitude,  when  he  is  confronted  with 
mere  probabilities  and  plausibilities  incapable  of  demonstra- 
tion, will  depend  in  a  remarkable  degree  on  the  accidents 
of  temperament  and  training.  In  religion  and  folklore  as  a 
whole  he  will  be  completely  at  a  loss.  At  one  time  he  will 
reject  them  root  and  branch  with  the  impatience  of  reason 
towards  nonsense  ;  at  another  time  he  will  willingly  bow  his 
neck  under  the  yoke  of  tradition.  Finally,  the  proud  struc- 
ture of  these  sciences  is  composed  of  a  series  of  deductions. 
The  foundation  of  experience  which  is  at  the  bottom  of  the 
building  is  lost  under  the  towering  superstructure,  and  its 
loss  is  the  less  remarkable  in  that  its  area  was  small  and 
was  familiar  at  so  early  a  stage  that  its  empirical  origin  is 
likely  to  be  overlooked.  Thus  it  happens  that  those  who 
cultivate  these  branches  of  knowledge  are  but  too  frequently 
apt  to  mistake  the  firm  concatenation  of  a  doctrine  as  an 
adequate  substitute  for  its  defects  on  the  side  of  outward 
proof.  The  rigour  of  deduction  is  often  compatible  in 
their  minds  with  an  arbitrary  and  subjective  looseness  in  the 
premises.  Other  facts,  too,  should  be  remembered  if  we  are  to 
grasp  the  key  to  the  mystery.  In  the  first  place,  the  school 
was  founded  in  an  era  of  overweening  credulity.  Secondly, 
Pythagoras  himself  was  as  much  a  man  of  religious  tem- 
perament as  of  scientific  training.  His  personality,  too,  was 
imposing,  and  he  had  the  further  advantage  of  having 
successfully  inaugurated  new  doctrines  and  customs  which 
had  invested  him  with  a  kind  of  halo.  The  old  Pythagoreans, 
with  their  defective  criticism  and  their  proneness  to  super- 
.stition,  were  mocked  at  as  men  of  clumsy  and  ungainly 
intellect.  More  than  the  disciples  of  any  other  school, 
they  swore  to  the  words  of  their  master.  "  Ipse  dixit  " 
was  their  favourite  cry  ;  it  was  the  magic  shield  which 
warded  off  every  doubt  and    repelled    every  hostile  attack 


no  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Nor  have  they  been  spared  the  reproach  of  having  adapted 
the  facts  of  nature  to  suit  their  preconceived  opinions,  and 
of  having  filled  up  by  fictions  the  lacunae  in  their  system. 
They  lived  and  moved  in  the  science  of  numbers,  and 
Aristotle  tells  us  that — 

"  they  collected  and  fitted  together  any  points  of  agreement 
they  could  discover  between  the  numbers  and  harmonies  on  the 
one  side,  and  the  conditions  and  parts  of  heaven  and  the  universe 
on  the  other.  And  where  there,  was  a  slight  misfit,  some  gentle 
pressure  would  be  applied  for  the  sake  of  rendering  their  theory  a 
homogeneous  whole.  I  mean,  for  instance,"  he  continues,  "  that 
since  they  regard  the  number  ten  as  a  perfect  whole  comprising  the 
rest  of  the  numbers,  therefore  they  assert  that  the  moving  luminaries 
of  heaven  are  also  ten  in  number.  Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
merely  nine  are  visible,  so  they  invented  the  counter-earth  as  a 
tepth." 

The  same  authority  condemns  their  malpractice  yet 
more  sharply  as  follov^^s  : — 

"  Further,  they  constract  a  second  earth  in  opposition  to  our 
own,  which  they  call  the  counter-earth,  and  therein  they  do 
not  look  for  theories  and  explanations,  but  corrupt  the  facts  in 
reference  to  certain  theories  and  favourite  opinions,  and  thus,  it 
may  be  said,  they  display  themselves  as  co-operators  in  the  creation 
of  the  universe." 

3.  The  justice  of  Aristotle's  indictment  cannot  ac- 
curately be  estimated  till  we  have  briefly  examined  the 
Pythagorean  astronomy.  The  qualities  and  defects  of 
their  method  are  displayed  most  clearly  in  that  field,  and 
their  combination  is  at  times  so  close  as  to  produce  an 
inextricable  confusion,  Anaximander,  v/e  remember,  has 
already  delivered  the  earth  from  its  supposititious  basis, 
and  had  let  it  float  freely  in  space  as  the  centre  of  the 
world.  Neither  Pythagoras  nor  the  train  of  his  immediate 
successors  seems  to  have  questioned  the  equilibrium  or 
the  central  position  of  the  earth.  But  whereas  Anaxi- 
mander had  merely  departed  from  the  primeval  conception 
of  a  flat  disc-like  earth,  so  far  as  to  give  it  the  shape  of 
a   drum,    Pythagoras   now   went   further.     He    recognized 


THE   BALL-SHAPED   EARTH.  1  I  I 

and  stated  that  the  earth  is  spherical.  There  are  three 
possible  ways  by  which  Pythagoras  may  have  reached  this 
original  discovery.  He  may  have  based  it  on  the  right 
interpretation  of  phenomena,  above  all  on  the  round 
shadow  cast  by  the  earth  in  the  eclipses  of  the  moon. 
Or  he  may  have  extended  the  groundless  assumption  of 
a  spherical  sky  to  the  separate  luminaries  of  heaven.  Or, 
finally,  he  may  have  been  prepossessed  in  favour  of  a 
ball-shape  by  his  view  of  it  as  the  "most  perfect"  of 
corporeal  forms.  But  whichever  alternative  we  adopt,  it 
was  in  all  circumstances  a  grand  and  new  step  in  the 
direction  of  the  true,  the  Copernican  view  of  the  universe. 
For  not  merely  was  the  earth  now  indued  with  spherical 
shape,  but  the  moon,  whose  phases  had  perhaps  been  the 
chief  contribution  to  the  right  theory,  and  the  sun,  and 
the  planets  were  also  looked  on  as  globular,  so  that  the 
exceptional  privileges  of  our  own  luminary  were  repealed. 
It  became  a  star  among  the  stars.  And  the  spherical 
shape  was  best  suited  to  its  progressive  movement  in 
space.  The  vessel,  we  might  say,  was  constructed  in  the 
shape  most  convenient  for  its  voyage  ;  the  moorings  were 
cut,  and  nothing  but  an  urgent  motive-force  was  wanted 
to  launch  it  from  the  harbour  where  it  lay.  The  motive 
was  supplied  by  the  stress  of  the  greater  accuracy 
attained  in  the  observation  of  facts,  combined  with  the 
principles  of  the  Pythagorean  school,  and  a  system  of 
astronomy  was  built  up  which  has  frequently  been  mocked 
and  ridiculed,  but  which  is  seen,  in  the  clear  light  of 
modern  impartial  research,  to  have  been  one  of  the  most 
original  and  brilliant  creations  of  the  Greek  intellect. 


I  I  2  GREEK    THINKERS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   DEVELOPMENT   OF   THE    PYTHAGOREAN   DOCTRINE. 

I.  Voltaire  called  the  later  Pythagorean  astronomy, 
connected  with  the  name  of  Philolaus,  a  "  Gallimathias," 
and  Sir  George  Cornewall  Lewis  indicts  it  as  "wild  and 
fanciful."  But  the  great  French  writer  with  his  frequently 
over-hasty  judgments  and  the  Englishman  with  his  excess 
of  conscientiousness  have  fallen  into  the  same  mistake.  It 
is  true  that  the  doctrine  in  question  is  a  tissue  of  truth 
and  invention,  but  its  features  of  truth  were  its  vital  and 
fundamental  parts,  whereas  the  fictitious  portions  were 
merely  a  superficial  covering  which  was  soon  to  dissolve 
like  smoke-wreaths.  But  if  we  are  to  understand  the 
motives  which  inspired  the  cosmology  of  Philolaus,  we 
must  pause  a  moment  at  the  commonest  phenomena  of 
the  heavens. 

Each  day  the  sun  runs  his  course  from  east  to  west. 
Simultaneously  he  climbs  higher  up  the  sky  to  sink  at  the 
end  of  a  few  months  from  the  height  he  has  reached. 
The  combination  of  his  daily  and  annual  movements  has 
the  effect  of  the  windings  of  a  screw  or  spiral — something 
like  the  shell  of  a  snail — and  like  it,  too,  the  intervals 
between  the  circles  contract  as  the  zenith  is  approached. 
This  view  was  hardly  likely  to  satisfy  inquirers  who 
had  approached  the  question  of  celestial  motion  in  the 
confident  belief  that  it  was  "  simple,  steady,  and  regular." 
It  may  be  permissible  to  blame  this  belief  as  a 
prejudice ;  but  though  it  was  in  part  a  preconceived 
opinion,     yet    the    closer    observation    of    facts     tended 


THE   SYSTEM  OF  PHILOLAUS.  1 13 

generally  to  confirm  it.  And  even  where  such  confirma- 
tion was  wanting,  the  belief  was  of  excellent  use  as  a 
principle  of  research,  just  like  the  kindred  assumption  of 
a  teleological  purpose  in  the  structure  of  organisms.  It 
was  possible  to  get  rid  of  the  confusing  irregularity.  For  a 
complex  movement  may  be  irregular  while  the  partial 
movements  that  compose  it  are  regular.  What  was  needed 
was  an  act  of  mental  separation.  And  the  clue  was  found 
by  separating  the  daily  movement  of  the  sun  from  its 
annual  movement.  At  this  point  our  early  philosophers 
had  a  brilliant  flash  of  inspiration.  They  conceived  the 
daily  movement  of  the  sun  and  moon,  and  indeed  of  all  the 
whole  starry  heaven,  as  not  real  at  all,  but  merely  apparent. 
Their  supposition  that  the  earth  was  moving  from  west  to 
east  enabled  them  to  dispense  with  the  assumption  that 
the  sun,  moon,  planets,  and  fixed  stars  were  moving  in 
an  opposite  direction.  The  question  suggests  itself  here. 
Did  these  Pythagoreans  recognize  and  teach  the  rota- 
tion of  the  earth  round  its  axis .''  Our  answer  is  :  They 
did  not  do  that,  but  they  did  recognize  and  teach  the 
existence  of  a  movement  which  operated  in  a  precisely 
similar  manner.  It  was,  so  to  say,  the  rotation  round 
its  axis  of  an  earth-ball  with  a  considerably  enlarged 
circumference.  They  represented  the  earth  as  circu- 
lating in  twenty-four  hours  round  a  central  point,  the 
nature  of  which  will  presently  occupy  us.  Here,  how- 
ever, the  reader  should  familiarize  himself  with  a  simple 
feature  of  this  doctripo.  A  moment's  reflection  will 
show  him  that,  for  any  given  point  in  the  earth's  surface, 
and  for  its  shifting  relations  with  the  sun,  moon,  and 
stars,  it  makes  not  the  remotest  difference  whether  the 
ball  on  which  it  is  situated  revolves  on  its  axis  in  the 
course  of  a  day,  or  describes  a  circular  course,  while 
facing  the  same  directions,  which  brings  it  back  to 
its  starting-point  in  the  same  limit  of  time.  We  can 
hardly  exaggerate  the  importance  of  this  discovery.  The 
revelation  that  there  were  apparent  heavenly  motions 
broke  the  barrier  that  obstructed  the  path  to  further  i)ro- 
gress.  The  central  position  of  the  earth  and  its  immobility 
VUI .  I.  J 


I  1 4  GREEK   THINKERS. 

had  both  been  given  up,  and  the  way  was  open  for 
the  Copernican  doctrine  which  followed  after  an  interval 
the  extraordinary  brevity  of  which  is  hardly  sufficiently 
recognized.  Nor  need  we  be  at  all  surprised  that  an 
equivalent  for  the  theory  of  rotation  was  adopted  instead 
of  the  theory.  For  though  we  never  actually  see  a 
luminary  turning  on  its  axis,  yet  changes  in  its  position 
are  matters  of  daily  and  hourly  observation.  Nothing, 
then,  could  be  more  natural  than  that  scientific  imagina- 
tion, which  had  just  succeeded  by  a  mighty  effort  in 
freeing  itself  from  the  delusions  of  sense,  should  have 
been  content  to  replace  the  apparent  immobility  of  the 
earth  by  a  movement  moulded  on  familiar  models,  and 
not  by  one  unique  in  its  kind  and  entirely  without  a 
parallel. 

The  centre  round  which  the  earth  was  now  admitted 
to  move  served  equally  as  the  centre  of  the  rest  of  the 
luminaries,  which  had  formerly  been  supposed  to  revolve 
round  the  earth.  The  moon  accomplished  its  course  once 
a  month  ;  the  sun  once  a  year ;  the  five  planets  visible 
to  the  naked  eye  required  various  periods,  which,  with 
the  exception  of  Mercury  and  Venus,  were  considerably 
longer;  finally,  the  firmament  of  fixed  stars,  whose  daily 
rotation  had  been  recognized  as  apparent,  was  similarly 
equipped  with  a  circular  movement  of  its  own,  though  of 
a  very  much  slower  order — a  conception  which  may  either 
have  been  due  to  the  mere  desire  for  conformity,  but 
which  is  far  more  probably  to  be  ascribed  to  that  change 
of  position  already  observed  and  taken  in  account  which 
we  call  the  precession  of  the  equinoxes.  The  daily  move- 
ment of  the  sun — or  rather,  according  to  this  theory,  of  the 
earth — took  place  in  a  plane  which  was  now  recognized 
to  incline  towards  the  plane  in  which  the  annual  movements 
of  the  sun,  moon,  and  planets  were  situated  ;  in  other 
words,  the  obliquity,  whether  of  the  equator  or  of  the 
ecliptic,  had  been  recognized,  and  the  new  conception 
was  thus  completely  adequate  to  explain  the  changes  of 
the  seasons. 

We  come  now  to  the  problem  of  the  central  point  round 


THE    CENTRAL-FIRE.  I  15 

which  the  heavenly  bodies  were  to  move  in  concentric 
circles.  It  was  no  ideal  centre,  but  rather  an  actual 
body,  consisting  of  universal  or  central  fire.  The  enemies 
of  Philolaus  call  it  "a  dreary  and  fantastic  fiction,"  but 
those  who  try  to  throw  themselves  with  temperate  judgment 
into  the  modes  of  thought  obtaining  in  the  dawn  of  science 
will  rather  call  it  "the  product  of  analogical  inferences, 
the  force  of  which  must  have  been  well-nigh  irresistible." 
The  assumption  that  the  heavenly  bodies  described  circles 
was  not  merely  approximately  true,  but  apart  from  the 
circular  segments  traversed  by  the  sun  and  moon  on  the 
firmament,  it  appeared  that  no  other  conclusion  could  be 
derived  from  the  circular  courses  described  before  our  eyes 
by  the  circumpolar  fixed  stars  that  never  set ;  and  though 
that  movement,  like  the  movement  of  the  whole  firmament 
of  fixed  stars,  had  now  been  recognized  as  purely  apparent, 
yet  the  daily  motion  of  the  earth  that  took  its  place  was 
bound  to  have  the  same  circular  character.  Here,  accord- 
ingly, the  type  was  given,  conformably  with  which  all  the 
heavenly  bodies  had  to  move.  But  human  experience 
supplies  no  example  of  circular  movements  without  an 
actual  centre.  A  wheel  turns  on  its  axis  ;  a  stone,  attached 
to  a  string  for  the  purpose  of  slinging,  turns  round  the 
hand  which  holds  it  and  which  sets  it  in  motion  ;  and, 
finally,  when  divine  worship  invited  Greek  men  and  women 
to  the  dance,  the  altar  of  the  god  formed  the  centre  of 
their  solemn  and  rhythmic  paces.  It  may  be  asked,  how- 
ever, what  need  there  was  of  inventing  a  central  fire,  when 
it  actually  existed  and  was  visible  to  every  man's  eye. 
What  was  wanted  was  a  centre  of  motion  and  a  source 
of  vigour  and  life  But  instead  of  accrediting  the  universal 
light  of  the  sun  with  the  rank  that  belonged  to  it,  a  lumi- 
nous body  was  invented  whose  rays  no  mortal  eye  had 
seen,  and,  considering  that  the  habitable  side  of  the  earth 
was  turned  away  from  the  central  fire,  no  mortal  eye  would 
ever  sec.  It  was  an  hypothesis  removed  by  a  perverse  in- 
genuity from  every  chance  of  verification,  and  one  wonders 
why  its  mistaken  authors  did  not  rather  jump  straight  away 
at  the  heliocentric  doctrine,  and  rest  satisfied  therewith. 


I  I  6  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Three  sufficiently  valid  solutions  may  be  suggested  for 
this  problem.  Remembering  that  the  delusions  of  sense 
are  only  abandoned  by  degrees,  and  that  the  human  mind 
habitually  follows  the  path  of  least  resistance,  we  have  first 
to  note  that  the  heliocentric  theory  was  bound  to  be  later 
than  that  of  rotation  round  an  axis.  It  was  obviously 
impossible  to  let  the  earth  revolve  round  the  sun  in  a  daily 
and  yearly  course  simultaneously,  and  we  have  already 
learned  to  justify  the  precedence  of  the  Pythagorean 
equivalent  over  the  rotation  theory,  A  second  consider- 
able obstacle  to  the  prompt  admission  of  a  heliocentric  or 
Copernican  astronomy  lay,  we  conceive,  in  the  exact  simi- 
larity between  the  sun  and  moon.  The  great  luminary  of 
day  and  his  more  modest  sister  of  the  night  were  visible 
to  men  as  two  heavenly  bodies  regularly  relieving  each 
other  and  combining  to  measure  time  by  their  revolutions, 
and  it  was  plainly  impossible  that,  except  by  a  process  of 
elimination,  shutting  out  every  other  issue,  men  would  ever 
be  brought  to  believe  that  luminaries  so  closely  connected 
differed  in  the  fundamental  point  that  the  moon  was  con- 
demned to  ceaseless  wandering  while  the  sun  was  vowed  to 
eternal  rest.  But,  thirdly  and  chiefly,  universal  fire  was 
more  satisfactory  as  the  centre  of  the  world  than  the  sun. 
Our  sun  is  the  central  point  of  a  system  of  luminaries 
by  the  side  of  which  countless  other  systems  exist  without 
visible  design  or  recognizable  order.  Human  intelligence 
resists  this  belief,  as  it  resists  every  other  call  to  renuncia- 
tion, till  the  compulsion  of  fact  leaves  it  no  second  alterna- 
tive. But  first  it  demands  a  uniform  picture  of  the  world 
instead  of  a  fragmentary  view  of  this  kind,  and  the  demand 
springs  from  the  natural  impulse  towards  lightening  and 
simplifying  the  intellectual  complexus — an  impulse  assisted 
in  the  present  instance,  indeed,  by  highly  developed  aesthetic 
and  religious  wants. 

It  will  be  readily  admitted  that  this  picture  of  the 
universe  owed  no  little  to  the  contribution  of  the  emotions 
and  the  fancy.  The  circular  course  of  the  divine  luminaries 
which  had  been  raised  by  the  fictitious  counter-earth  to  the 
sacred   number   ten   was    described    as    a  "  dance."      The 


THE   HARMONY  OF   THE   SPHERES.  I  I  7 

rhythm  of  this  starry  dance  was  set  to  the  sounds  arising 
from  the  motion  itself,  and  making  unceasing  music,  which 
was  recognized  and  known  as  the  "  harmony  of  the  spheres." 
Next,  the  universal  fire,  which  was  the  central  point  of  the 
celestial  procession,  was  known  by  many  names.  It  was 
called  the  "mother  of  the  gods,"  the  "citadel  of  Zeus," 
and  so  forth,  but  two  of  its  titles  may  be  mentioned  as 
especially  characteristic.  These  were  the  "  altar  "  and  the 
"hearth  of  the  universe."  The  stars  revolved  round  the 
sacred  source  of  all  life  and  motion  like  worshippers  round 
an  altar,  and  the  universal  hearth  was  the  centre  of  the 
world  or  cosmos  as  a  man's  domestic  hearth  was  honoured 
as  the  sacred  centre  of  his  home,  or  as  the  flame  that  burned 
and  was  never  extinguished  in  the  civic  hearth  of  the 
Prytaneum  formed  the  holy  rallying-point  of  every  Greek 
community.  Hence  streamed  the  rays  of  light  and  heat, 
hence  the  sun  derived  his  beams  and  communicated  them 
again  to  both  earths  and  to  the  moon,  just  as  the  mother 
of  the  bride  lighted  at  a  Greek  wedding  the  fire  of  the 
new  home  from  the  parental  hearth,  or  as  a  new  colony 
would  borrow  its  fire  from  the  hearth  of  the  mother-city. 
All  the  threads  of  the  Greek  view  of  life  are  combined 
here.  We  see  the  exalted  joy  in  existence,  the  loving  awe 
for  the  universe  ruled  by  divine  forces,  the  sublime  sense 
of  beauty,  symmetry,  and  harmony,  and  not  least  the 
comfortable  affection  for  civic  and  domestic  peace.  Those, 
then,  who  held  these  views,  and  whose  universe  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  fire-circle  of  Olympus  as  by  a  strong  wall, 
found  in  it  their  home,  their  sanctuary,  and  the  type  of 
their  art.  Nowhere  else  do  we  find  a  picture  of  the  uni- 
verse at  once  so  genial  and  so  sublime. 

2.  The  emotional  faculties,  then,  were  satisfied  in  a 
truly  wonderful  degree,  though  at  the  cost  of  the  intel- 
lect. We  have  now  to  estimate  the  price  which  reason  had 
to  pay,  and  which  will  be  found  to  have  been  by  no  means 
exorbitant.  Even  the  "  dreams  of  the  Pythagoreans  "  con- 
tained a  modicum  of  truth  ;  or,  where  that  modicum  was 
wanting,  there  was  at  least  an  indication  given  of  the  road 
which  would  ultimately  lead  to  trutli.     At  first  sight,  f(M- 


Il8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

instance,  no  doctrine  could  appear  more  arbitrary  than  that 
of  the  harmony  of  the  spheres.  It  obviously  sprang  in  the 
last  resort  from  an  aesthetic  demand  which  was  formulated 
as  follows :  Our  eyes  are  filled  with  the  grandest  sights  ; 
how  is  it,  then,  that  the  twin  sense  of  our  ears  should  go 
empty  ?  But  the  premise  on  which  the  answer  rested  was 
not  wholly  unreasonable.  For  unless  the  space  in  which  the 
stars  revolve  is  completely  void,  the  matter  that  fills  it  must 
undergo  vibrations  which  in  themselves  are  capable  of  being 
heard.  Even  in  recent  times,  no  meaner  philosopher  than 
Karl  Ernst  von  Baer,  the  great  founder  of  embryology,  has 
asked  if  there  is  not  "  perhaps  a  murmur  in  universal  space, 
a  harmony  of  the  spheres,  audible  to  quite  other  ears  than 
ours."  Now,  it  was  objected  to  the  Pythagoreans  that  we 
do  not  actually  hear  such  sounds  ;  but  they  deprecated 
the  astonishment  of  the  cavillers  by  the  following  happy 
analogy.  A  blacksmith,  they  said,  is  deaf  to  the  con- 
tinuous, regular  beat  of  the  hammers  in  his  workshop ;  and 
herein  they  anticipated  the  teaching  of  Thomas  Hobbes, 
who  argued  that  the  operation  of  the  senses  depends  on  a 
change  in  the  stimuli ;  the  stimulation  must  be  interrupted, 
or  altered  in  degree  or  kind.  There  was  nothing  fanciful 
in  the  Pythagorean  doctrine  except  only  the  belief  that 
the  differences  of  velocity  in  the  movements  of  the  stars 
were  capable  of  producing  a  harmonious  orchestration  and 
not  merely  sounds  of  varying  pitch.  At  this  point  their 
artistic  imagination  had  a  freer  rein,  inasmuch  as  they 
were  completely  unable  to  determine  the  relative  distances 
of  the  planets  and  the  absolute  velocities  that  ensued  from 
them,  though  they  could  arrive,  approximately  at  least,  at 
the  circular  segments  which  the  planets  described  in  a  given 
time — in  other  words,  at  the  angular  velocities  of  their 
movements. 

But  here,  too,  we  shall  presently  find  ourselves  ready 
to  mitigate  our  judgment.  We  have  to  remember  that 
the  premise  of  law  and  order,  as  pervading  the  universe, 
could  hardly  have  been  applied  by  the  Pythagoreans  to 
any  other  relations  than  those  of  geometry,  arithmetic, 
and  music — the  last  named  because  of  the  importance  of 


''ALL   NUMBER   AND   HARMONY:'  II9 

acoustics  in  their  natural  philosophy.  Simplicity,  symmetry, 
and  harmony  were  ascribed  indifferently  to  all  three. 
They  neither  knew  nor  divined  anything  of  the  forces 
which  produce  celestial  movements,  so  that,  even  had 
they  been  acquainted  with  the  elliptic  orbits  of  the 
planets,  that  knowledge,  we  may  remark,  would  never 
have  satisfied  their  demand  for  order.  They  would 
not  have  recognized  the  curve  as  the  resultant  of  two 
rectilinear  forces.  Their  heaven,  says  Aristotle,  "  is  all 
number  and  harmony,"  and  we  may  add  that  a  correct 
intuition  of  the  highest  significance  was  still  clothed  in 
unsuitable  shape.  The  seekers  were  incapable  of  dis- 
covering law  where  it  was  really  in  operation,  and  it  was 
anyhow  better  to  look  for  it  where  it  did  not  exist  than 
not  to  look  for  it  at  all.  Further,  the  assumption  that 
the  sun  shines  with  borrowed  light  may  be  traced  in  the 
main  to  the  parallelism  between  the  sun  and  the  moon 
which  we  mentioned  just  now.  Moreover,  the  homo- 
geneous conception  of  the  universe  might  conceivably 
have  suffered  if  a  second  independent  source  of  light  had 
been  assumed  so  near  the  centre  of  the  world.  But  since 
they  could  not  altogether  dispense  with  such  an  assumption, 
they  found  it  in  the  Olympus  alluded  to  above  as  the 
girdle  of  the  universe,  containing  all  the  elements  in  their 
unsullied  beauty.  The  firmament  of  fixed  stars,  and 
possibly  the  planets,  derived  all  their  light  from  Olympus, 
and  the  sun  borrowed  a  part  of  his  from  the  same  source, 
to  make  amends,  we  presume,  for  his  otherwise  too 
frequent  obscurations.  The  porous  and  glass-like  qualities 
of  the  sun,  which  enabled  it  to  collect  the  rays  of  light 
and  to  emit  them  again,  should  be  noted  in  this  connec- 
tion. Next  we  come  to  the  second  great  fiction  of  the 
Pythagoreans — ^that  of  the  countcr-earth.  We  may  readily 
follow  Aristotle  in  believing  that  the  sacredncss  of  the 
number  ten  played  a  part  in  this  conception.  But  the 
introduction  of  a  new  luminary  and  its  insertion  between 
the  earth  and  the  central  fire  had  many  important  conse- 
quences, and  there  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  this  fiction 
of  the  counter-earth  was  recommended  to  its  inventors  as 


I20  GREEK    THINKERS. 

much  for  the  sake  of  its  results  as  for  the  reason  alleged 
by  the  Stagirite.  The  lacunae  in  the  information  at  our 
disposal  do  not  permit  us  to  pass  definite  judgment ;  but 
Boeckh's  opinion  that  the  counter-earth  was  to  act  as  a 
screen  of  the  central  fire,  so  as  to  explain  its  invisibilitj^, 
is  certainly  defective.  For  the  supposition  that  the  un- 
inhabited western  hemisphere  of  the  earth  was  turned 
towards  the  fire  was  a  quite  sufficient  explanation.  It  is 
more  probable  that  the  counter-earth  was  invented  partly 
as  an  ostensible  cause  for  the  eclipses  of  the  moon  which 
occurred  so  frequently  as  to  seem  to  require  the  shadow 
of  the  counter-earth  in  addition  to  the  shadow  of  the  earth. 
The  facts  of  history,  however,  are  more  eloquent  than 
all  the  arguments.  Historically  considered,  the  theory 
of  central  fire  promoted  and  did  not  retard  the  progress 
of  scientific  research.  In  less  than  a  century  and  a  half  it 
engendered  the  heliocentric  doctrine.  The  fantastic  excre- 
scences of  the  Philolaic  system  fell  away  piece  by  piece. 
The  counter-earth  was  the  first  to  go :  the  death-blow  was 
struck  at  this  fiction  by  the  extension  of  the  geographical 
horizon.  The  foundations  of  the  hypothetical  structure 
built  by  the  Pythagoreans  began  to  give  way  in  the  fourth 
century  at  latest.  At  that  time  exacter  news  reached 
Greece  of  discoveries  in  the  west  and  in  the  east.  Hanno, 
the  Carthaginian,  had  made  his  great  voyage  of  discovery, 
and  had  passed  the  barrier  of  the  Pillars  of  Hercules, 
where  the  Straits  of  Gibraltar  now  are,  which  had  ranked 
till  then  as  the  furthest  limit  of  the  Western  world  ;  and 
shortly  afterwards  the  outline  of  the  East  was  more 
clearly  defined  by  Alexander's  march  in  India.  A  coign 
of  observation  had  been  reached  from  which  the  counter- 
earth  should  have  been  visible,  and  since  neither  the 
counter-earth  nor  the  central  fire,  thus  robbed  of  its  last 
protection,  came  in  view  at  that  point,  this  portion  of 
the  Pythagorean  cosmology  was  spontaneously  shattered. 
Nor  was  this  all :  the  daily  circular  movement  of  the  earth 
disappeared  with  the  fictitious  centre  that  conditioned  it, 
and  the  doctrine  of  rotation  took  the  place  of  the  theory 
we  have  described  as  its  equivalent.     Ecphantus,  one  of 


THE    COPERNICUS   OF  ANTIQUITY.  121 

the  youngest  of  the  Pythagoreans,  taught  that  the  earth 
turned  on  its  own  axis.  The  second  step  on  the  road  to 
the  heliocentric  doctrine  followed  swiftly  on  the  first.  The 
marked  increase  in  luminosity  which  the  planets  occasion- 
ally display  was  first  noticed  in  Mercury  and  Venus, 
and  the  true  cause  of  the  phenomenon  suggested  itself 
inevitably  as  the  occasional  closer  propinquity  of  these 
wandering  stars  to  the  earth.  Thus  it  was  clearly 
impossible  that  they  could  revolve  concentrically  round 
the  earth.  These  two  nearest  neighbours  of  the  sun  had 
plainly  confessed  their  dependence  on  that  luminary  by 
the  revolution  they  respectively  accomplished  in  the  course 
of  a  solar  year.  Accordingly  they  were  the  first  of  the 
planets  whose  movements  were  combined  with  the  sun's. 
This  was  the  masterly  discovery  of  Heraclides  of  Heraclia 
on  the  Black  Sea,  a  man  whose  powerful  genius,  contained 
in  a  misshapen  body,  was  familiar  with  the  most  diverse 
regions  of  science  and  literature,  who  had  visited  the 
schools  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  and  had  kept  up  a  lively 
intercourse  with  the  latest  Pythagoreans.  But  here,  again, 
there  was  no  finality.  Mars  likewise  displayed  a  con- 
spicuous change  in  his  degree  of  brightness  even  to  the 
incomplete  observation  which  obtained  in  that  age,  and 
thus  a  link  was  forged  to  unite  the  two  inner  planets 
with  one  at  least  of  the  outer  ones.  Philosophy  was 
approaching  the  point  of  view  reached  in  later  times  by 
Tycho  de  Brahe,  who  represented  all  the  planets  with 
the  exception  of  the  earth  as  revolving  round  the  sun, 
while  the  sun  with  his  train  of  planets  revolved  round 
the  earth.  The  last  and  final  step  was  taken  by 
Aristarchus  of  Samos,  the  Copernicus  of  antiquity,  about 
280  B.C.,  who  completed  what  the  astronomer  from 
the  Pontus,  to  whom  allusion  has  just  been  made,  had 
less  definitely  begun.  Eudoxus  had  given  the  clue  to 
this  great  intellectual  achievement  by  his  discovery  that 
the  size  of  the  sun  is  considerably  greater  than  the  earth's. 
Aristarchus  computed  their  relative  proportion  at  seven  to 
one  ;  and  inadequate  as  this  estimate  was  in  comparison 
with    the    actual   fact,    it    was    sufficient    to    expose    the 


122  GREEK   THINKERS. 

absurdity  of  setting  the  great  ball  of  fire  to  revolve  like 
a  satellite  round  the  small  world  that  we  inhabit.  The 
earth  had  to  lay  down  the  sceptre  which  had  recently  been 
restored  to  it  ;  heliocentricity  superseded  geocentricity,  and 
the  goal  was  reached  for  which  Pythagoras  and  his  disciples 
had  smoothed  and  pointed  the  way.  As  things  turned 
out,  however,  it  was  soon  to  be  abandoned  again,  and  its 
place  to  be  taken  for  another  long  series  of  centuries 
by  the  immemorial  delusions  fostered  in  the  name  of 
religion. 

But  it  is  time  to  return  from  this  historical  forecast  to  its 
starting-point  at  the  old  Pythagorean  doctrines,  and  there 
is  now  nothing  to  prevent  our  resuming  the  thread  of 
the  inquiry  which  we  dropped  at  the  close  of  the  last 
chapter  but  one. 


(        123       ) 


CHAPTER  V. 

ORPHIC    AND    PYTHAGOREAN    DOCTRINES    OF 
THE    SOUL. 

I.  OrphicISM  and  Pythagorism  might  be  called  the  male 
and  female  forms  of  the  same  conception.  In  the  one 
there  is  a  surplus  of  visionary  and  fantastic  elements  ;  in 
the  other,  of  rational  and  scientific  method.  The  one 
answers  to  the  need  for  personal  salvation  ;  the  other  to  the 
requirements  of  state  and  society.  The  one  is  dominated 
by  a  love  of  purity  and  by  a  fear  of  contamination  ;  the 
other  promotes  the  cause  of  morality  and  civil  order. 
The  one  is  wanting  in  vigorous  self-confidence,  and  tends 
to  a  contrite  asceticism  ;  the  other  exhibits  the  resolute 
discipline  of  an  ethical  culture,  nourished  on  the  arts  and 
on  self-examination.  Among  the  Orphics  it  is  a  religious 
brotherhood  which  unites  the  members  of  the  community, 
whereas  the  union  of  the  Pythagoreans  takes  the  form  of  a 
semi-political  knightly  order.  Orphicism  takes  no  account  of 
mathematical  or  astronomical  research  ;  Pythagorism  holds 
aloof  from  the  speculations  of  cosmogony  and  theogony. 
But  despite  every  difference  in  degree,  and  in  the  midst 
of  these  distinctions,  there  is  yet  a  most  striking  concord- 
ance, strong  enough  at  many  points  to  fuse  the  two  sects 
in  one,  and  to  make  it  almost  impossible  to  say  which  gives 
to  or  takes  from  the  other. 

In  one  respect,  however,  the  difference  may  be  stated 
with  comparative  clearness.  The  two  sects  may  be  dis- 
tinguished by  that  important  part  of  their  doctrine  which 
refers  to  metempsychosis,  or  the  transmigration  of  souls. 


124  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Aristotle  tells  us  that,  "  according  to  the  Pythagorean 
myths,  any  soul  goes  into  any  body,"  and,  to  say  nothing 
of  the  evidence  of  countless  authorities  of  a  later  date, 
Xenophanes,  a  younger  contemporary  of  Pythagoras,  relates 
a  story  which  illustrates  this  point.  His  verses  on  the 
subject  are  still  extant.  He  tells  us  that  Pythagoras, 
seeing  a  dog  being  maltreated,  and  hearing  him  howl,  cried 
out  in  pitying  tones,  "  Leave  off  beating  the  dog,  for  I  re- 
cognize in  his  tones  the  voice  of  the  soul  of  a  friend."  An 
anecdote  of  this  kind — and  its  anecdotal  character  is  vouched 
for  by  the  words  "it  is  related,"  with  which  Xenophanes 
introduces  the  story — could  hardly  have  been  invented, 
unless  the  incident  had  been  typical  of  the  man  of  whom 
it  was  told.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Pythagoras — as  we  see 
from  Empedocles,  for  instance — had  many  wonderful  tales 
to  tell  of  the  previous  existence  of  his  own  soul.  It 
will  be  instructive  to  pause  for  a  moment  at  this  strange 
doctrine.  We  call  it  strange,  but  if  we  remember  how 
widely  it  was  spread  we  shall  perhaps  revise  the  epithet. 
It  is  shared  by  the  Gallic  Druids  and  the  Druses  of  the 
Middle  Ages  ;  it  is  maintained  to-day  by  the  Zulus  and 
the  Greenlanders,  by  the  Indians  of  North  America  and  the 
Dayaks  of  Borneo,  by  the  Karens  of  Burma  and  the  in- 
habitants of  Guinea  ;  it  counts  among  its  adherents  the 
worshippers  of  Brahma  and  Buddha,  and  it  attracted  the 
sympathetic  assent  of  a  Spinoza  and  a  Lessing.  The 
wide  extension  of  this  theory  in  space  and  time  is  sufficient 
evidence  of  its  deep  roots  in  human  thought  and  senti- 
ment. It  must  be  noted  as  a  preliminary  condition 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  transmigration  of  human  souls 
into  animals  and  plants  and  conversely,  which,  it  may  be 
added,  is  not  admitted  in  all  the  instances  we  have  cited, 
was  incompatible  with  the  pride  of  species,  which  would 
place  impassable  barriers  between  these  natural  kingdoms. 
In  this  connection  we  may  trace  the  following  development 
of  thought.  In  the  first  place,  from  the  phenomena  of 
dreams,  ecstasy,  and  obsession  was  derived  the  right  of  free 
movement,  one  might  almost  say  the  right  of  free  domicile, 
which  the  soul  enjoyed  ;  and,  this  being  granted,  there  was 


THE   PSYCHOLOGICAL   MOTIVE.  1 25 

no  reason  why,  when  its  temporary  abode  broke  up,  the 
soul  should  not  seek  and  choose  a  new  dwelling-place  for 
itself.  There  was  no  more  reason  why  the  soul  should  not 
change  its  body  than  why  a  man  should  not  change  his 
clothes.  Next,  it  would  be  asked  whence  all  the  souls 
were  derived  which  inhabit  and  animate  men,  animals,  and 
plants  for  a  brief  period  of  time  ;  and,  further,  if  they  were 
as  numerous  as  the  short-lived  beings  with  whom  they 
were  temporarily  joined.  Take  the  child,  for  example,  who 
dies  at  a  tender  age  :  was  his  soul  created  for  that  span 
of  time,  or  had  it  been  waiting  since  the  beginning  of  the 
universe  for  its  little  term  of  incarnation  .''  And  what  was 
to  happen  to  it  afterwards .''  Was  the  spiritual  being, 
with  its  power  of  animating  a  human  or  an  animal  body, 
to  exercise  that  capacity  for  a  few  weeks,  or  days,  or 
hours,  or  moments  alone,  and  then  to  return  to  the  eternal 
silence  ?  And  even  apart  from  this  exceptional  instance,  it 
was  surely  more  natural  to  regard  these  imperishable  or 
hardly  perishable  higher  beings  as  more  limited  in  number 
than  the  swiftly  falling  material  beings,  constantly  vanishing 
and  constantly  replaced,  over  which  the  souls  preside.  The 
officers  of  an  army,  we  remember,  are  less  numerous  than 
the  soldiers  they  command.  And  finally,  as  soon  as  thought 
began  to  assume  a  stricter  logical  precision,  the  analogical 
inferences  here  concerned  must  likewise  have  become  more 
rigid.  The  survival  of  the  body  by  the  soul  was  and  is,  almost 
without  exception,  a  universal  belief  of  mankind.  And  as 
there  was  no  reason  to  contemplate  the  later  extinction  of 
the  soul,  its  survival  became  more  and  more  unlimited,  till, 
with  the  doctrine  of  eternity,  it  was  promoted  to  eternal 
existence.  And  as  everything  that  is  created  is  demon- 
strably perishable,  the  thought  was  bound  to  occur  with 
irresistible  force  that  the  imperishable  was  also  the  un- 
created, that  the  eternity  of  after-existence  was  the  guar- 
antee of  an  eternity  of  pre-existence.  In  ])eriods  of  more 
advanced  civilization  a  further  conclusion  was  drawn.  It 
was  seen  that  even  in  the  material  world  things  were  not 
actually  created  and  destroyed,  but  were  rather  involved 
in  constant  change  and  circulation  ;  and,  transferring  this 


126  GREEK   THINKERS. 

observation  to  the  spiritual  universe,  a  similar  circulation 
was  postulated,  in  pursuance  of  which  one  and  the  same 
being  changed  its  earthly  form  innumerable  times,  and, 
after  an  incalculable  series  of  transformations,  returned  at 
last  to  an  earlier  or  even  to  its  earliest  shape. 

The  Greeks,  equally  with  other  nations,  might  have 
derived  their  belief  in  metempsychosis  from  these  and 
kindred  speculations.  Nevertheless,  this  does  not  seem  to 
have  been  the  case.  No  one  tells  us  anything  of  the  kind, 
and  if  the  belief  had  been  established  in  Hellas  from  of 
old,  it  would  not  have  escaped  the  notice  of  Xenophanes, 
who  had  travelled  so  much  and  was  well  versed  in  such 
topics.  It  would  hardly  have  occurred  to  him  to  mention 
this  doctrine  as  peculiarly  characteristic  of  Pythagoras, 
and  to  have  ridiculed  him  on  that  account.  Our  opinion 
is  supported  by  a  consideration  of  a  more  general  kind. 
Though  kindness  to  animals  was  the  foundation  on  which 
the  doctrine  rested,  yet  the  temperament  of  the  Greek 
people  was  never  especially  friendly  to  animals.  With  a 
few  quite  isolated  exceptions,  there  were  no  sacred  animals 
in  Greece,  as  there  were  in  India  and  Egypt.  Finally, 
it  is  a  priori  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that 
Pythagoras  invented  a  belief  which  was  already  firmly 
seated  in  many  popular  creeds.  The  general  problem, 
then,  is  reduced  to  the  particular  question.  From  what 
people  or  creed  did  the  sage  who  was  famous  above  all 
for  his  far  -  reaching  "  inquiry "  borrow  the  doctrine  of 
metempsychosis .''  Herodotus  replies  by  a  reference  to 
Egypt,  whence  men,  whose  names  he  knew,  but  was  reluc- 
tant to  mention,  had  transplanted  the  doctrine  to  Greek 
soil.  Unfortunately,  the  direct  evidence  which  we  now 
possess  of  the  Egyptian  theory  of  the  soul  prevents  our 
complete  acquiescence  in  that  account.  The  "  Book  of  the 
Dead "  recognizes  the  privilege  of  good  souls  to  assume 
various  shapes  of  animals  and  plants ;  it  may  "  appear 
one  day  as  a  heron,  another  as  a  cockchafer,  and  yet 
another  as  a  lotus-flower  on  the  water  ; "  it  may  display 
itself  as  the  winged  phoenix,  as  a  goose,  a  swallow, 
a  plover,  a  crane,  or  a  viper.     And  the  wicked  soul,  too, 


EGYPT   OR  INDIA?  I  27 

the  restless  vagabond  between  heaven  and  earth,  seeks  a 
human  body  in  which  to  pitch  its  tent,  in  order  to  torment 
it  with  sickness,  and  to  harry  it  to  bloodshed  and  madness. 
But  when  Herodotus  goes  on  to  speak  of  the  regular  course 
pursued  by  the  soul  of  the  dead,  "  through  all  departments 
of  life,  on  land,  in  the  sea,  and  in  the  air,  till  after  the 
expiry  of  three  thousand  years  it  returns  to  a  human  body 
again,"  we  note  that  he  is  exceeding  his  Egyptian  text,  at 
least  as  far  as  it  has  hitherto  been  deciphered.  Whether 
or  not  the  last  word  has  been  said  by  the  antiquarians  on 
a  subject  so  constantly  changing  and  so  rife  with  contra- 
dictions, for  the  present  at  any  rate  we  are  unable  to 
accept  the  statement  of  Herodotus.  There  is  a  far  closer 
agreement  between  Pythagorism  and  the  Indian  doctrine, 
not  merely  in  their  general  features,  but  even  in  certain 
details,  such  as  vegetarianism  ;  and  it  may  be  added  that 
the  formulae  which  summarize  the  whole  creed  of  the  "circle 
and  wheel "  of  births  are  likewise  the  same  in  both.  It 
is  almost  impossible  for  us  to  refer  this  identity  to  mere 
chance.  It  is  true  that  no  account  would  be  acceptable 
which  would  require  Pythagoras  to  have  sat  at  the  feet  of 
Indian  priests  or  to  have  been  even  indirectly  influenced 
by  the  newly  hatched  Buddhistic  religion.  But  we  may 
dispense  alike  with  both  of  these  wild  assumptions.  The 
Indian  doctrine  of  metempsychosis  is  older  than  the 
Buddhists,  and  it  is  not  too  much  to  assume  that  the 
curious  Greek  who  was  the  contemporary  of  Buddha,  and 
it  may  have  been  of  Zarathustra  too,  would  have  acquired 
a  more  or  less  exact  knowledge  of  the  religious  specula- 
tions of  the  East,  in  that  age  of  intellectual  fermentation, 
through  the  medium  of  Persia.  It  must  be  remembered 
in  this  connection  that  the  Asiatic  Greeks,  at  the  time 
when  Pythagoras  still  dwelt  in  his  Ionian  home,  were 
united  with  a  part  of  the  Indian  nation  under  the  single 
sway  of  Cyrus,  the  founder  of  the  Persian  empire.  Still, 
be  the  origin  of  the  belief  what  it  may,  it  was  fused  at  an 
early  date  with  Orphic  doctrines.  These  were  originally 
severed  from  Pythagorism,  though  we  now  kncnv  them 
better  in  combination  ;  and,  in  attempting  to  explain  these 


128  GREEK   THINKERS. 

common  theories,  we  must  dwell,  above  all,  on  their  funda- 
mental doctrine,  of  which  metempsychosis  was  only  a  part, 
though  a  part  of  considerable  magnitude. 

2.  This  common  doctrine  may  be  epitomized  in  a  single 
significant  phrase  as  the  "fall  of  the  soul  by  sin."  The  soul 
was  of  divine  origin,  and  its  earthly  existence  was  unworthy 
of  it.  Its  body  was  a  fetter,  a  prison,  a  grave.  Nothing 
but  its  own  guilt  could  degrade  it  from  heavenly  excellence 
to  the  impurity  of  earthly  life.  Its  sin  involved  it  in  peni- 
tential punishment,  for  through  atonement  and  purification 
alone  would  it  be  able  to  return  to  the  divine  home  whence 
it  came.  This  process  of  purification  and  atonement  was 
accomplished  in  two  ways — by  the  penalties  of  Hades,  and 
by  the  cycle  of  births.  We  can  hardly  believe  that  two 
such  different  means  for  the  attainment  of  a  single  end 
should  have  been  combined  from  the  beginning.  For  this 
reason  and  others,  we  may  conjecture  that  the  penalties  of 
Hades  were  a  later  accretion  to  the  Pythagorean  doctrine 
of  metempsychosis,  derived  from  the  Orphics,  and  fused 
with  it  through  their  influence. 

We  have  hitherto  been  acquainted  with  the  Orphics 
merely  as  the  founders  of  an  original  doctrine  of  cosmogony, 
and  in  that  connection  have  obtained  a  purely  casual  insight 
into  their  methods  of  thought.  To  distinguish  these  more 
accurately,  we  must  glance  at  the  myth  which  took  a  central 
position  in  their  creed.  It  is  known  as  the  legend  of 
Dionysus  Zagreus.  As  the  son  of  Zeus  and  Persephone, 
Dionysus  was  still  a  child  when  his  heavenly  father  en- 
trusted him  with  the  empery  of  the  world.  He  was  per- 
secuted by  the  Titans,  who  had  formerly  been  worsted  in 
their  struggle  with  Uranus.  The  divine  boy  escaped  from 
their  wily  attacks  in  divers  shapes  and  forms,  till  he  was 
finally  caught  by  them  in  the  form  of  a  bull,  whom  they 
tore  to  pieces  and  devoured.  His  heart  alone  was  rescued 
by  Athene,  and  Zeus  presently  swallowed  it  in  order  to 
create  from  it  "  the  new  Dionysus."  To  punish  the  Titans 
for  their  crime,  Zeus  struck  them  with  his  thunderbolt.  Out 
of  their  ashes  rose  the  race  of  mankind,  whose  nature 
contained   both   elements — the   Titanic  and   the   Dionysic, 


THE    CIRCLE    OF  BIRTHS.  1 29 

springing  from  the  blood  of  Zagreus.  The  Titans  were 
the  embodiment  of  the  principle  of  evil,  Dionysus  of  the 
principle  of  good,  and  in  their  fusion  were  contained  the 
seeds  of  that  conflict  between  the  godlike  and  the  ungod- 
like  which  occurs  but  too  frequently  in  the  human  breast. 
Thus  this  strange  legend,  the  other  characteristics  of  which 
do  not  concern  us  here,  abuts  in  an  elucidatory  myth  to 
explain  the  duality  of  human  nature,  and  to  account  for 
the  inward  conflict  which  rends  it  and  bends  it  continually. 
This  conflict  went  deep.  The  glaring  contrast  between 
earthly  suffering  and  earthly  imperfection  on  the  one  part, 
and  heavenly  bliss  and  heavenly  purity  on  the  other,  lies 
at  the  heart  and  core  of  the  philosophy  of  the  Orphics 
and  Pythagoreans.  Hence  came  their  longing  for  purifica- 
tion, for  atonement  and  final  redemption.  The  goal  they 
aimed  at  was  hard  to  attain  ;  a  single  earthly  existence 
was  not  enough  to  cleanse  the  soul  from  its  original  sin 
and  to  redeem  it  from  the  defilement  with  which  later 
misdeeds  had  sullied  it.  A  long  series  of  palingeneses 
formed  a  kind  of  continuous  pilgrimage,  extending  through 
thousands  of  years,  and  interrupted  and  embittered  by  the 
penalties  suffered  by  the  soul  in  the  "pool  of  mire."  Late, 
if  at  all,  the  soul  was  freed  from  its  labours,  and  returned 
to  the  starting-point  of  its  journey.  As  a  pure  spirit  once 
more,  it  re-entered  its  home  and  rejoined  the  brotherhood 
of  the  gods.  The  three  gold  tablets  committed  to  the 
tombs  of  dead  men  during  the  fourth  and  third  centuries 
B.C.  in  the  neighbourhood  of  ancient  Thurii  * — a  district 
formerly  hospitable  to  Pythagoreans — contain  some  illus- 
trative references  in  this  connection.  "  I  escaped  from  the 
burdensome  circle  of  lamentation" — this  was  the  cry  of 
hope  raised  by  the  purified  soul  which  had  "  fully  atoned 
for  its  works  of  inicjuity,"  and  which  approached  "holy 
Persephone,  Queen  of  the  Shades,"  in  the  guise  of  "  a 
suppliant  for  protection,"  proud  to  belong  to  the  "blissful 
race "  of  that  goddess  and  her  peers  in  the  under-world. 
They  would  send  it  "  to  the  seats  of  the  innocent,"  and 
would  utter  the  redeeming  word  in  its  expectant  ears — "a 

*    Vide  Ch.  II.  §   2 
VOL.   I.  K 


130  GREEK   THINKERS. 

god  shalt  thou  be  instead  of  a  mortal."  These  series  of 
verses  are  clearly  the  variant  recensions  of  a  common  and 
an  older  text  They  combine  with  several  other  fragments, 
partly  belonging  to  the  same  age  and  to  neighbouring 
localities,  partly  to  the  island  of  Crete  and  the  later  Roman 
epoch,  to  form  the  scanty  remains  of  what  we  might 
conveniently  call  the  Orphic  "  Book  of  the  Dead."  In 
them  we  can  trace  the  journey  of  the  soul  in  the  under- 
world ;  their  different  recensions  display  an  exact  corre- 
spondence with  one  another  as  well  as  with  the  tablets  of 
Thurii,  and  recent  experience  warrants  the  good  hope 
that  our  information  may  presently  be  more  complete. 

3.  We  have  here  to  reckon  with  a  possible  fact.  The 
"  fall  of  the  soul  by  sin  "  is  as  completely  unknown  to  the 
texts  we  have  just  discussed  as  it  is  to  the  writings  of 
Pindar  the  poet  and  Empedocles  the  philosopher,  who 
are  our  most  ancient  authorities  on  the  teachings  of  the 
Orphics.  Both  instances  may  be  due  to  pure  chance,  for 
our  information  in  either  case  is  of  a  fragmentary  character. 
But  another  explanation  may  be  offered.  It  is  conceivable 
that  that  central  doctrine  of  the  Orphics  has  undergone 
a  further  development,  and  the  allegation  of  a  cause  for  the 
fall  of  the  soul — "  this  evil,  too,  is  the  expiation  of  a  crime  " 
— may  have  been  a  later  accretion.  Taking  this  assumption, 
three  elements  are  left  as  native  to  that  doctrine.  First, 
we  have  the  melancholy  view  of  life  which  depreciated 
earthly  existence  and  the  goods  of  this  world  ;  secondly, 
an  assured  confidence  in  the  justice  of  the  gods,  who 
punished  every  misdeed  and  rewarded  every  merit  ;  and, 
thirdly,  the  fixed  belief  in  the  divine  nature  and  the 
divine  origin  of  the  soul.  At  present  we  have  merely  to 
note  that  pessimistic  view  of  life  which  contrasted  so 
grimly  with  the  brilliant  insouciance  of  the  Homeric  age. 
We  may  postpone  the  explanation,  though  we  marked  the 
beginnings  of  the  change  as  early  as  Hesiod.  It  will  be 
readily  conceded  that  Hesiod  and  Homer  were  dealing  with 
different  orders  of  the  population,  and  stern  indeed  must 
have  been  the  experience  of  war  and  peace  which  prepared 
the  Greek  mind  for  such  gloomy  views  of  life.     A  man  who 


MOTIVE   OF  ORPHIC  BELIEF.  T31 

believed  in  the  retributive  justice  of  Heaven  must  have  based 
his  belief  on  a  recognition  of  the  dominion  of  the  principle 
at  least  of  right  and  law  ;  for  it  is  obvious  that  as  long  as 
personal  favour,  or  personal  loyalty  at  best,  was  the  govern- 
ing factor  in  State  and  society,  the  confidence  of  reasonable 
expectation  could  have  had  no  leg  to  stand  on.  We  have 
already  referred  to  the  nature  of  the  belief  in  retribution, 
but  it  will  assist  us  to  understand  its  details  if  we  recall 
the  image  of  the  Erinyes,  for  instance,  who  were  origin- 
ally conceived  as  the  souls  of  the  murdered  men,  wrath- 
fully  seeking  their  own  revenge.  The  private  vengeance 
of  the  individual  and  the  family  formed  the  basis  of  the 
penal  code  in  earthly  states,  and  the  blood-code  of  the 
gods  in  the  courts  of  the  after-world  was  due  to  a  similar 
extension.  We  may  quote  as  evidence  for  this  conclusion 
those  pictures  of  the  infernal  regions  where  we  see  the 
evil-doer  persecuted  by  the  soul  or  avenging  spirit  of  his 
victim.  Next,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  the  direction  to  the 
future  life  given  to  the  belief  in  retribution  would  have 
gained  most  ground  in  pessimistic  times  and  climes.  An 
Aeschylus,  for  instance,  who  held  this  belief  more  stoutly 
than  any  other  Greek  poet,  hardly  glances  beyond  the 
confines  of  earthly  existence.  The  hero  of  Marathon  was 
content  with  the  grand  spectacle  of  divine  justice  of  which 
he  had  been  the  witness  and  abettor.  Here,  however,  if 
we  are  to  gain  a  clear  understanding  of  the  divine  descent 
of  the  soul,  we  must  arm  ourselves  against  misleading 
analogies. 

The  conception  of  the  soul  of  the  dead  fully  partici- 
pating in  the  bliss  of  the  gods,  joining  their  table,  sharing 
their  carouses,  and  abandoning  itself  to  all  kinds  of  sensual 
enjoyment,  was  common  to  the  ancient  Indians  and 
Germans,  as  well  as  to  the  Indians  cjf  Central  Americ;'., 
and  probably  to  the  Thracians  too.  It  should  be  clearly 
stated  that  it  had  next  to  nothing  in  common  with 
the  main  lines  of  the  Orphic  doctrine,  and  it  is  e([ually 
illegitimate  to  refer  that  belief  in  the  higher  nature  of  the 
soul  to  the  mere  evidence  of  spiritual  phenomena  which 
are  the  property  of  the  mystics  of  all  countries  and  times. 


132  GREEK   THINKERS. 

The  goals  at  which  the  religious  mystic  aims  have 
ev^erywhere  and  always  been  the  same.  By  direct  inter- 
course and  gradual  assimilation,  he  strives  after  a  final 
identification  with  his  god.  But  though  the  aim  be 
uniform,  the  ways  which  lead  to  it  are  many.  Some 
have  accompanied  their  progress  by  the  beating  of  drums, 
the  tinkling  of  cymbals,  and  the  shrilling  of  flutes. 
Others  approach  their  deity  through  the  sensuous  mazes 
of  the  dance,  and  others,  again,  seek  his  presence  by  an 
absorption  in  monotonous  contemplation  or  by  the  hypnotic 
trance  engendered  by  continuous  gazing  at  some  gleaming 
object.  By  this  means  the  Maenad  of  Greece,  the  Brahman 
ascetic,  the  Mohammedan  dervish,  and  the  Buddhistic  monk 
were  exalted  to  ecstasy,  were  relieved  of  the  burden  of 
self-consciousness,  and  were  admitted  to  the  freedom  of 
the  godhead  or  of  the  source  of  light.  In  wide  circles 
of  the  people,  as  soon  as  the  storm  of  a  spiritual  epidemic 
of  that  kind  had  blown  over,  the  nervous  frenzy  or 
stupefaction  v/ould  be  succeeded  by  the  "  mysterion,"  or 
"  sacramentum,"  which  gave  the  true  believer  the  feeling 
of  identity  with  the  godhead  and  freed  him  for  awhile  from 
the  burdensome  coil  of  individual  existence.  Those  acts 
and  excitements,  by  which  man  lost  his  manhood  and  felt 
himself  a  god — we  need  but  mention  the  Bacchants  and 
Sabazians,  the  Ras  and  Osirises  of  Egypt,  and  the  like — 
were  superseded  by  symbolic  ceremonies,  by  the  bearing 
of  holy  vessels,  the  tasting  of  sacred  food  and  drink,  and 
occasionally  by  symbolic  sexual  unions,  all  of  which  cere- 
monies helped  to  create  the  illusion  of  an  identity  with  the 
gods,  wherein  we  meet  the  essence  of  the  Greek  mysteries, 
connected  with  Bacchus,  Eleusis,  and  so  forth.  Religion  was 
here,  as  elsewhere,  wholly  divorced  from  morality.  Since  the 
ecstasy  loosened  each  and  every  restraint,  it  tended  to  im- 
morality rather  than  its  converse,  and  the  enthusiasm  of  the 
Bacchanalia  has  always  formed  a  striking  contrast  with  the 
strict  propriety  of  respectable  conduct.  It  is  a  contrast 
which  renders  it  superfluous  to  speak  of  certain  hole-in-a- 
corner  mysteries,  the  excesses  of  which  were  a  disgrace  to 
Greece  no   less  than  to    other   countries.     But   in   tracing 


RELIGIOUS    MYSTICISM.  133 

the  development  of  human  altruism,  which  was  at  first 
confined  to  the  circle  of  family  sentiments,  we  see  that 
the  gods  were  exalted  from  their  original  non-moral 
attributes  to  the  rank  of  guardians  and  protectors  of  all 
that  State  and  society  held  dear ;  and  the  refinement  of 
the  new  ideals  which  was  shed  on  the  objects  of  worship 
reacted  in  turn  on  the  worshippers.  Thus  the  mystic  rites 
of  Greek  religion,  with  the  important  mysteries  of  Eleusis 
sacred  to  the  infernal  deities  at  their  head,  became  by 
no  means  wholly  indifferent  to  the  claims  of  morality. 
Evildoers  were  excluded  from  the  rites  which  gave  their 
participants  a  foretaste  of  eternal  bliss,  and  the  prohibition 
was  probably  not  confined  to  the  class  of  murderers  alone. 
The  Orphics  too  possessed  a  mystic  cult,  of  which  we 
know  little  more  than  that  it  embodied  the  chief  myth  of 
that  sect,  though  this  embodiment  fell  behind  the  Eleu- 
sinian  representation  of  the  myth  of  Demeter  in  its 
sensuous  and  brilliant  qualities.  But  the  grand  feature 
which  distinguishes  the  Orphic  branch  of  Greek  religion 
from  the  rest  of  the  mysteries  was  the  consistent  energetic 
force  of  its  morality,  the  sole  approximation  to  which 
was  found  in  the  religion  of  Apollo  with  its  centre  at 
Delphi.  In  the  emphasis  which  was  laid  on  the  ethical 
consciousness  we  are  justified  in  recognizing  the  essential 
portion  of  the  third,  the  most  significant  and  the  most 
characteristic  part  of  the  Orphic  doctrine  of  the  soul. 

A  parallel  will  help  to  make  our  meaning  clearer.  In 
chapter  cxxv.  of  the  Egyptian  "  Book  of  the  Dead," 
there  is  contained  a  negative  confession  of  sin  which  reads 
like  a  long-drawn-out  version  of  what  is  epitomized  in  a 
few  words  on  the  gold  tablets  of  Lower  Italy  to  which 
allusion  has  so  frequently  been  made.  In  both,  tlic 
soul  of  the  dead  man  emphatically  calls  itself  "  pure,"  and 
it  is  solely  on  the  ground  of  this  purity  that  it  bases  its 
claim  to  everlasting  bliss.  But  here  a  distinction  is  to  be 
noted.  The  soul  of  the  Orphic  worshipper  contends  that  it 
has  done  atonement  for  its  "works  (jf  inicjuity,"  and  there- 
fore is  conscious  of  its  freedom  from  their  consc([ULnt 
pollution.     The    soul   of  the    Egyptian,    on    the    contrary, 


134  GREEK   THINKERS. 

recounts  the  full  tale  of  the  iniquities  which  it  avoided 
in  its  earthly  pilgrimage.  There  are  not  many  facts  in 
the  history  of  religion  and  morality  which  are  so  well 
calculated  to  arouse  our  astonishment  as  the  archives  of 
this  ancient  confessional.  Sins  against  the  ceremonial  law 
are  mentioned  in  it,  but  not  in  any  great  number. 
And  by  the  side  of  the  precepts  of  civil  morality  common 
to  all  ethical  codes  we  find  traces  there  of  a  refinement 
of  moral  feeling  in  an  uncommon  and  partly  in  a  surprising 
degree.  The  following  quotations  will  illustrate  this 
point : — 

"  I  have  not  oppressed  the  widow. 

"  I  have  not  withdrawn  the  milk  from  the  mouth  of  the 
suckling. 

"  I  have  not  made  the  poor  man  poorer. 

"  I  have  not  made  the  journeyman  work  beyond  his  contracted 
time. 

"  I  was  not  negligent ;  I  was  not  idle. 

"  I  have  not  traduced  the  slave  to  his  employer. 

"  I  have  not  made  any  man's  tears  to  flow." 

Moreover,  the  ethical  teaching  which  shines  between  the 
lines  of  this  confession  enjoined  acts  of  positive  benevolence 
as  well  as  the  avoidance  of  wrongdoing.  The  soul  of  the 
departed  cries  out,  "  I  have  spread  the  canopy  of  joy 
everywhere  ;  I  have  fed  the  hungry,  given  drink  to  the 
thirsty,  clothed  the  naked.  I  have  provided  a  boat  for 
the  retarded  voyager,"  and  so  forth.  Finally,  the  righteous 
soul,  its  long  discipline  over,  attains  to  the  chorus  of  the 
gods.  "  My  impurity  is  cleansed,"  it  cries,  with  exultation, 
"  and  the  sin  that  lay  on  me  is  cast  off.  I  reach  this  land 
of  the  blessed,  and  ye  who  stand  before  me " — the  gods 
mentioned  just  now — "  reach  me  your  hands  :  I  am  become 
one  of  you." 

It  is  impossible  for  us  to  decide  whether  the  parallel 
which  confronts  us  here  is  a  mere  accidental  likeness,  or 
the  result  of  historical  causation.  But  we  should  remember 
in  this  context  that  the  development  of  the  Orphic  doctrine 
ensued — and  ensued  by  no  means  remotely — on  the  begin- 
nings of  an  intimate  intercourse  between  Egypt  and  Greece. 


AN  EGYPTIAN  PARALLEL.  I  35 

The  Greeks,  too,  it  will  be  noted,  looked  up  to  the  monu- 
ments of  Egyptian  architecture  and  sculpture  with  reverent 
sentiments  of  awe.  To  borrow  Plato's  expression,  they 
with  their  young  civilization  felt  themselves  mere  "children," 
when  they  contemplated  the  hoary  institutions  of  Egypt. 
It  would  not,  accordingly,  be  surprising  if  they  had 
borrowed  from  that  source  religious  and  ethical  features 
of  far-reaching  significance.  We  must  leave  to  the 
inves-igators  of  the  future  the  task  of  deciding  this 
question  by  a  final  and  impartial  judgment.  For  our 
purposes,  the  example  drawn  from  Egypt  is  sufficient  to 
show  the  connection  in  other  countries  too  between  a 
deeper  conception  of  morality  and  the  belief  in  the  divine 
nature  of  the  soul.  And  if  we  mark  the  discrepancy 
between  the  exalted  demands  which  a  man  of  fine  ethical 
ideals  makes  on  his  will  and  sentiment  and  the  brutish 
instincts  which  so  frequently  oppose  the  satisfaction  of 
those  demands,  we  shall  see  that  nothing  could  be  more 
natural.  This  discrepancy  would  obviously  contribute  to 
the  belief  that  a  deep  gulf  was  fixed  between  the  two 
parts  of  human  nature,  and  that  they  could  by  no  means 
have  sprung  from  the  same  source.  This  view  of  human 
nature,  dividing  it  in  its  elements  into  alien  and  hostile 
halves,  must  have  reacted  favourably  on  the  development 
of  the  conscience  and  on  its  struggle  against  impulses 
inimical  to  good  and  human  deeds.  But  all  light  has  its 
shadow,  and  the  shadow  in  this  instance  was  the  duality 
of  self,  the  disturbance  of  man's  mental  harmony,  the 
hostility  to  nature,  and  the  ascetic  abnegation  of  its 
harmless  and  even  of  its  wholesome  demands.  All  these 
features  are  combined  in  this  ancient  system  of  Puritanism 
which  brought  in  its  train  a  long  scries  of  unprofitable 
customs  and  unlovely  versions  of  mythology.  The  move- 
ment in  itself  was  a  great  one,  dimmed  though  its  great- 
ness has  been  by  these  tributary  accretions. 

We  shall  gain  a  better  knowledge  of  the  origin  of  the 
movement  if  we  take  in  consideration  the  historical  condi- 
tions under  which  it  arose.  The  religious  crisis  was  clearly 
a   reflex  of  the   social  crisis.     It  was  the  accompaniment 


136  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  the  battle  of  the  classes  which  filled  the  seventh 
century  and  a  part  of  the  sixth.  Distress,  as  ever,  was 
the  mother  of  prayer ;  and  the  first  to  gaze  with  longing 
eyes  at  a  more  blissful  future,  and  to  look  to  the  gods  to 
redress  the  inequalities  of  earth,  were  doubtless  the  victims 
of  conquest  and  of  the  harsh  rule  of  the  oligarchs.  At 
least  it  may  be  stated  with  certainty  that  Orphicism  took 
its  rise  among  the  middle  classes,  and  not  among  the 
nobles.  A  prominent  tenet  in  the  creed  of  its  adherents 
was  their  horror  of  bloodshed,  and  this  moral  idea  points 
to  a  class  of  society  which  neither  yearned  for  warlike 
renown  nor  was  famous  for  its  prowess  in  arms.  Further, 
Justice  and  Law,  which  occupy  as  Dike  and  Nomos  a  high 
place  in  the  Orphic  pantheon,  have  always  been  mentioned 
in  the  prayers  of  the  weak  and  oppressed  rather  than  of 
the  strong  and  mighty.  It  is  almost  legitimate  in  this 
connection  to  speak  of  a  conscious  opposition  to  the  life 
and  ideals  of  tne  ruling  classes  no  less  than  of  an  open 
rebellion  against  the  ruling  religion.  To  this  last  factor 
it  is  due  that  the  Thracian  god  Dionysus,  who  was  a 
comparatively  late  arrival  in  the  Hellenic  heaven,  took  so 
prominent  a  place  in  the  system  of  the  Orphics.  It  is 
important,  moreover,  to  note  that  when  the  new  religion 
proceeded  to  build  up  its  mythical  structure  it  took  no 
account  of  heroic  deeds,  such  as  those  of  Hercules,  the 
heavenly  aristocrat,  but  it  exalted  the  unmerited  "  suffer- 
ings "  of  a  popular  god  like  Dionysus.  Take  the  story  of 
the  wicked  Titans  and  of  the  helpless  child  Dionysus, 
and  we  perceive  that  it  reflects  as  in  a  mirror  the  insolence 
of  the  violent  oppressor  whom  the  vengeance  of  heaven 
will  overtake  at  the  last,  and  the  impotence  of  the  blame- 
less suff'erer  whose  confidence  in  Justice  will  be  crowned 
with  ultimate  victory.  It  must  be  acknowledged  that  this 
was  not  the  original  meaning  of  the  legend.  It  was 
rather  intended  to  explain,  as  has  been  conjectured 
with  reasonable  certainty,  a  rude  orgy  of  sacrificial  rites 
in  which  live  animals  were  torn  to  pieces  and  devoured. 
But  in  this  instance,  as  in  others,  religious  imagination 
transformed  the  material  at  its  disposal,  invested  it  with 


ORPHICS   AND    TYRANTS.  1 37 

a  new  meaning,  and  turned  it  to  the  purpose  of  new  ideas. 
There  were  two  factors  at  work  to  promote  the  opposition 
to  the  nobles,  who  were  at  once  the  trustees  of  the  State 
religion  and  the  guardians  of  the  national  traditions :  first, 
the  courts  of  the  tyrants,  and,  secondly,  the  conventicles  of 
the  Orphics.  If  the  view  wc  have  taken  be  correct, 
Orphics  and  tyrants  alike  were  the  representatives  of  the 
same  classes  of  the  people — of  the  citizens,  that  is  to  say, 
who  were  devoid  of  rights,  and  of  the  peasants  who  had 
bowed  their  neck.*  The  parallel  works  out  with  remark- 
able closeness.  Take  the  case  of  Clisthenes,  for  example. 
It  was  he  who  broke  up  the  oligarchy  in  Sicyon,  and 
substituted  grossly  abusive  epithets  for  the  grand  old 
titles  of  the  Doric  tribes  ;  and  it  was  he,  again,  who  forbade 
the  recital  of  the  Homeric  poems,  who  deprived  Adrastus, 
the  national  hero  and  demigod,  of  his  honours,  and  tacked 
them  on  to  Dionysus.  The  resemblance  may  further  be 
traced  in  the  political  habits  of  those  dynasties.  They 
were  eager  to  form  alliances  with  foreign  potentates,  and 
some  of  their  members — the  instance  of  Corinth  occurs  to 
us — even  went  so  far  as  to  adopt  outlandish  names  from 
Phrygia  or  Egypt  such  as  Gordius  and  Psammetich.  In 
precisely  the  same  way  the  Orphic  worshippers  introduced 
gods  from  Thrace  and  Phoenicia — the  Kabiroi — by  the  side 
of  the  Hellenic  deities,  and  were  not  averse,  as  we  have 
been  at  pains  to  show,  from  adapting  their  cosmogony  to 
the  teachings  of  Egypt  and  Babylon.f  Taking  all  these 
points  into  consideration,  it  was  plainly  something  more 
than  mere  chance  that  Onomacritus,  the  founder  of  the 
Orphic  community  at  Athens,  enjoyed  the  jM-otection  of 
the  Pisistratides,  and  dwelt  as  a  guest  at  their  court. 

In  the  course  of  our  inquiry,  we  shall  frc([uciUiy 
have  occasion  to  cross  the  path  oi  Orphicisin.  We  shall 
become  acquainted  with  the  fruits  of  its  harvest,  and  mark 
the  misgrowths  that  disfigured  it.  We  shall  sec  the 
influence  that  it  exercised  on  Plato,  and  thnnigh  him  f)n 
posterity.  And  here  we  shall  hardly  fail  to  note  that 
the  psychical  dualism  which  dividetl  body  and  soul  was 
*    Vide  \n\xw\.,^2.  \    r/</-'  C:ii.  II.  §  3. 


J 


8  GREEK   THINKERS. 


extended  and  expanded  at  this  point  to  a  real  dualism 
between  the  world  and  the  Deity.  This  consequence  was 
implicit  in  the  fundamental  principles  of  Orphicism,  though 
the  Orphics  never  drew  it  themselves.  They  acquiesced 
in  an  enlightened  Pantheism,  in  which  the  chief  stress 
was  laid  on  the  unity  of  universal  life.  Finally,  we 
shall  watch  the  descent  of  the  mighty  stream  in  the  clear 
light  of  the  wonderful  discoveries  of  modern  times,  and 
especially  of  the  restoration  of  the  "Apocalypse  of  St. 
Peter."  The  sources  of  that  stream  are  still  shrouded  in 
obscurity,  but  the  sun  has  risen  on  the  era  of  early 
Christianity  to  which  it  flows,  and  on  the  wide  reaches  of 
that  movement  in  which  its  current  can  be  traced. 

4.  The  origin  of  Orphicism  is  obscure  to  this  day,  but 
it  may  be  stated  without  hesitation  that  it  was  crossed  at 
an  early  date  by  the  beginnings  of  Pythagorism.  There 
is  internal  evidence  in  support  of  this  view,  and  there  is, 
further,  the  authority  of  trustworthy  traditions.  The  names 
of  men  are  mentioned  in  antiquity  as  the  authors  of  Orphic 
poems  who  are  partly  known  to  us  as  members  of  the 
Pythagorean  circle,  and  partly  as  dwellers  in  precisely 
those  regions  —  Lower  Italy  and  Sicily  —  where  the 
doctrines  of  Pythagoras  were  first  and  most  widely  sown. 
We  have,  accordingly,  to  resign  all  attempts  to  draw  a 
clear  line  of  demarcation,  but  in  the  region  which  more 
particularly  concerns  us  we  are  able  to  point  to  tenets 
which,  on  traditional  grounds  and  by  internal  testimony, 
we  may  describe  as  Pythagorean  rather  than  as  Orphic. 
The  Orphics,  for  instance,  were  satisfied  to  locate  the  soul 
between  one  incarnation  and  another  in  the  reformatories 
of  Hades,  but  the  Pythagoreans,  with  their  more  scientific 
tendencies,  went  on  to  ask  how  it  happened  that  there 
was  always  a  soul  at  hand  and  ready  to  enter  a  body 
whenever  and  wherever  a  new  being  came  into  existence. 
In  this  respect,  as  they  perceived,  it  was  immaterial  whether 
they  took  the  moment  of  conception,  or  the  moment  of 
birth,  or  some  period  of  time  between  the  two.  Having 
posed  this  question,  they  went  on  to  answer  it  themselves. 
They  pointed  to  the  example  of  the  particles  of  dust  in 


PYTHAGOREAN  IDEAS.  I  39 

the  sunlight.  There  they  were  provided  with  corpuscles 
which  surround  us  on  all  sides,  and  which  we  inhale  with 
every  breath  we  draw,  but  which  stand  on  the  border-line 
of  perceptibility,  and  are  not  visible  till  the  sunlight  falls 
on  them.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  the  continuous  vibration 
of  those  sensitive  particles  of  dust,  even  when  the  air  was 
apparently  quite  still,  reminded  the  observer  of  the  cease- 
less motion  which  was  ascribed  to  the  soul,  and  thus 
assisted  the  identifying  process ;  but  even  without  this 
adventitious  aid  the  theory  was  intelligible,  and  from  its 
author's  point  of  view  was  an  eminently  reasonable  one. 
It  was  customary  at  that  epoch  to  regard  the  soul,  not  as 
an  immaterial  being,  but  as  one  so  finely  composed  of 
matter  as  to  be  invisible  or  hardly  visible.  Thus  the 
question  and  its  answer  were  alike  completely  justified. 
Modern  science,  it  may  be  added,  has  reached  a  well- 
founded  conclusion  on  precisely  the  same  lines.  It  has 
observed  that  certain  lower  organisms  are  spontaneously 
engendered  wherever  the  conditions  are  favourable  to  their 
development,  and  hence  it  has  inferred  that  the  air  is  full 
of  invisible  germs  of  that  kind. 

We  are  far  less  completely  acquainted  with  the 
theology  of  the  Pythagoreans.  There  is  no  evidence  to 
show  that  their  theology  stood  in  any  kind  of  sharp 
contrast  with  the  popular  religion.  It  exhibits  an  ap- 
parent leaning  to  monotheism,  or,  according  to  other 
accounts,  to  a  sort  of  dualism.  In  this  connection  we  arc 
reminded  of  the  fantastic  theory  of  numbers,  which  identified 
unity,  as  the  principle  of  good,  with  the  godhead,  and 
duality,  as  the  principle  of  evil,  with  the  material  world. 
But  such  speculations,  in  so  far  as  they  are  credible  at  all, 
clearly  belong  to  later  phases  in  the  development  of  the 
Pythagorean  doctrine.  It  is  otherwise,  as  it  seems,  with 
the  dogmas  of  the  exhalation  of  the  world,  which  makes 
it  appear  as  an  animate  being,  and  of  the  origin  of 
the  world,  which  was  supposed  to  have  started  from 
one  point  and  to  have  been  continued  and  completed 
by  the  attraction  of  that  point  on  its  nearest  surround- 
ings and    on    ever-wider    portions   of   space.       liut   tenets 


I40  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  this  kind  bear  the  unmistakable  mark  of  the  child- 
hood of  science.  Of  far  greater  importance  is  a  doctrine 
of  equal  antiquity  for  which  we  depend  on  the  authority 
of  a  very  striking  remark  by  Eudemus.  Eudemus  was  a 
pupil  of  Aristotle  whose  careful  study  of  the  history  of 
astronomy  and  geometry  must  have  given  him  an  exact  in- 
sight into  Pythagorism,  and  in  one  of  his  lectures  on  the 
conception  of  time  and  of  temporal  identity  he  uttered  the 
following  words :  "  If  we  are  to  believe  the  Pythagoreans, 
I  shall  once  more  gossip  among  you  with  this  little  staff  in 
my  hand,  and  again  as  now  will  ye  be  sitting  before  me, 
and  likewise  will  it  be  with  all  the  rest."  The  excellent 
Eudemus  merits  our  hearty  thanks  for  having  let  slip  this 
allusion  in  the  heat  of  his  discourse,  and  we  shall  be  hardly 
less  grateful  to  his  industrious  disciples  who  preserved  the 
remark  in  their  note-books  for  the  benefit  of  posterity. 
The  delightful  picture  is  conjured  up  vividly  before  our 
eyes  :  the  master  sitting  on  his  marble  chair,  smiling  at 
his  humorous  fancy  and  playing  with  the  badge  of  his 
office  ;  the  pupils  facing  him  in  long  rows  of  seats,  and 
listening  half  puzzled,  half  amused.  But  the  thoughts  that 
are  contained  in  this  brief  piece  of  information  are  virtually 
inexhaustible,  and,  it  may  be  said  at  once,  they  redound  to 
the  greatest  credit  of  the  Pythagoreans.  For  the  pregnant 
little  sentence  is  neither  more  nor  less  than  an  unconditional 
surrender  to  the  theory  of  universal  law.  It  is  an  inference 
derived  with  strict  logical  precision  from  the  union  of  that 
theory  with  the  belief  in  cyclical  succession.  Anaximander 
and  Heraclitus  have  already  familiarized  us  with  this 
belief,  and  since  we  shall  presently  meet  it  again  in  Empe- 
docles  and  in  far  later  authors,  it  will  be  well  to  consider 
more  closely  the  question  of  its  origin. 

To  this  end  we  must  revert  to  the  motives  of  cosmogonic 
speculation  as  such.  The  problem  of  the  origin  of  the 
world  was  first  and  chiefly  obtruded  on  men's  minds  by 
their  daily  experience  of  the  rise  and  decay  of  fresh  visible 
objects.  For  what  was  found  to  be  true  of  single  objects 
was  believed  to  be  true  of  their  totality,  the  world.  At 
a  later  stage  an  impulse  was  added  by  all   the   real  and 


CYCLICAL    COSMIC  PROCESS.  141 

supposed  evidences  of  order  and  regularity  in   the  world, 
especially    by    the    existence    of    Air,    Earth,    and    Sea, 
the   three   vast    agglomerations   of    homogeneous    matter, 
which    never   quite    came   to  be   regarded  as  primordial. 
Further    and    finally,   the    process    was    assisted    by    the 
changes  that   close    observation    revealed  on   the   surface 
of  the  globe,  such  as  the  formation  of  deltas,  the  shifting 
of    land    and    sea,    and    so    forth.      The    earlier    experi- 
ments   in   cosmogony   had    commonly    been   confined    to 
the   presumption   and  description   of  a   beginning  of  the 
existing   order ;   they   had   rarely   gone   on    to  ask   what 
preceded  that  beginning,  and  whether  or  not  the  existing 
order  would  endure  till  eternity.     Thus  a  second  problem 
awaited   the   more  mature   development  of  thought,   and 
when  the  philosophers  approached  it  they  were  confronted 
with  the  alternative  supposition  of  an  absolute  beginning 
and    an    absolute   end,    or    of   a   cosmic    process  without 
beginning    or    end   in   the   proper   sense    of  those  terms. 
The  Greek   thinkers,  who  were  apt   at  seizing  analogies 
serious,    as    a    rule,   though    not    always   well-interpreted, 
adopted      at     once    and    with    practical     unanimity     the 
second  alternative  of  a  ceaseless  process  of  transformation 
without  a  proper  beginning    and    without    a    proper    end. 
And   here,  too,  there  was  a   parting  of  the  ways.     Geo- 
metrically speaking,    the   cosmic   process  might   be   com- 
pared either  with  a  trajectory  or   with    a   cycle.     As  the 
one    it  would   be   a  journey  to  an  unknown  goal,  as  the 
other  it  would  be  a  circular  course  of  phenomena  always 
returning  to  its  starting-point.      And   with   these   alterna- 
tives   before   him    the   Greek  thinker   could    not    hesitate 
which  to  choose.     There  was  no  decisive  analogy  to  impel 
him   to  adopt  the  first.     In  favour  of  the  cyclical  theory 
he   could    quote   the    spectacle   of  decay  and  resurrection 
which  constantly  renewed  itself  in  the  life  of  plants,  and 
it  was  further  supported  by  the  circulation  of  matter,  the 
recognition  of  which  may  have  been  the  original  motive 
of  the  doctrine  of  primary  matter,  and  which  Heraclitus,  at 
least,  presents  with  complete  clearness  of  expression.    And 
to  this  uniformitv  of  natural    life  there  was   but  a    single 


142  GREEK   THINKERS. 

exception  ;  the  souls  of  the  dead,  whether  they  were 
regarded  as  shadows  in  Hades  or  were  exalted  to  the  seats 
of  the  blessed,  broke  the  law  of  cyclical  succession.  At  the 
same  time  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis,  which  itself 
depended  to  some  extent  on  the  more  general  analogy, 
was  calculated  to  redress  the  harmony  which  this  single 
exception  disturbed.  Furthermore,  the  circulation  of  the 
seasons  must  have  been  of  paramount  significance.  We 
can  conceive  nothing  more  convincing  than  the  regular 
return  of  the  great  gleaming  luminaries  with  the 
beneficent  powers  that  they  exercised  on  natural  and 
human  life,  and  the  consequent  veneration  they  enjoyed 
as  beings  of  a  godlike  order.  We  may  parenthetically 
note  at  this  point  the  greatest  boon  which  astronomy 
conferred  on  mankind.  It  was  the  first  science  which  com- 
bined the  notions  of  God  and  law.  It  spread  the  halo  of 
divinity  over  the  conceptions  of  order  and  rule,  and,  more 
than  that,  it  preserved  the  conception  of  divine  dominion 
from  the  risk  of  ultimate  and  inseparable  confusion  with 
that  of  arbitrary  power. 

Thus,  then,  the  belief  was  reached  in  the  cyclical  suc- 
cession of  phenomena.  It  acquired  a  more  rigid  shape 
by  its  adaptation  to  the  doctrine  of  the  "world-year"  or 
"  great  year "  due  to  the  astronomical  researches  of  the 
Babylonians  or  perhaps  of  still  older  civilized  peoples  which 
had  extended  over  thousands  of  years.  From  such  obser- 
vations and  their  consequences  men  came  to  recognize  or 
guess  at  immense  tracts  of  time.  The  solar  year,  for 
example,  stood  to  the  world-year  of  Babylon  in  the  relation 
of  a  second  to  a  day — a  second  equal  to  two  of  our  own 
seconds,  since  the  Babylonians  divided  the  day  into  twelve 
instead  of  twenty-four  hours.  And  the  great  year  of  this 
computation  was  itself  but  a  day  in  the  life  of  the  universe. 
If  we  look  for  the  motive  of  these  gigantic  units  of  time, 
we  shall  doubtless  find  it  in  the  belief  that  the  rest  of 
the  heavenly  luminaries,  whose  changes  of  position  had 
become  discernible  by  observations  extending  over  a  series 
of  centuries,  were  governed  by  the  same  laws  as  the  sun, 
moon,  and   stars,   which    returned    after   regular   intervals 


BABYLONIAN  ''  world-year:'  1 43 

to  the  positions  they  had  originally  occupied.  The 
framework  of  astronomy  thus  devised  in  the  East  was 
filled  up  by  the  cyclical  doctrines  of  Hellenic  as  well  as  of 
Indian  philosophers.  Our  readers  are  already  acquainted 
with  Heraclitus's  belief  in  the  periodical  consumption  of 
the  world  by  fire.*  The  Babylonians  had  likewise  assumed 
periodical  conflagrations  and  floods.  But  while  we  render 
all  honour  to  the  wide  intellectual  horizon  of  the  authors  of 
this  conception,  we  cannot  but  characterize  its  details  as 
fantastic  in  the  extreme.  Their  conflagration  was  fixed  for 
the  time  when  all  the  planets  should  be  congregated  in  the 
sign  of  Cancer,  and  their  flood  for  the  date  of  their  meeting 
in  Capricorn.  It  is  perfectly  clear  that  this  rested  on  the 
fact  that  the  division  of  the  zodiac  which  the  sun  reaches 
at  the  period  of  the  summer  solstice  is  associated  with 
burning  heat,  whereas  that  of  the  winter  solstice  is  asso- 
ciated with  pouring  deluge.  The  Pythagoreans  apparently 
kept  free  from  this  wild  play  of  associated  ideas,  though  their 
theory  of  a  "  double  destruction "  by  the  fall  of  heavenly 
fire  and  of  the  lunar  water  would  appear  to  have  been 
influenced  by  the  Babylonian  doctrine.  But  the  remark- 
able theory  which  Eudemus  reports  to  us  cannot  otherwise 
be  explained  than  by  the  presumption  of  a  cyclical  disso- 
lution of  existing  cosmic  or  earthly  conditions.  We  cannot 
admit  that  it  is  directly  derivable  from  the  theory  of  the 
world-year  by  the  intermediate  maxim,  "when  the  stars 
resume  their  former  places,  all  occurrences  will  repeat 
themselves  as  before."  Such  an  admission  would  ascribe  to 
the  Chaldean  astrology  a  quite  unwarranted  influence  on 
Pythagorism,  no  trace  of  which  is  elsewhere  perceptible. 
On  the  contrary,  Thcophrastus  himself,  a  fellow-pupil  of 
Eudemus,  expresses  the  greatest  astonishment  at  the 
sham-science  of  Babylon  which  then  became  known  in 
Greece.  And  it  is  equally  inadmissible,  in  our  opinion, 
to  drag  in  the  transmigration  of  souls  to  account  for 
this  doctrine.  In  the  first  place,  it  was  eagerly  adopted 
by  the  later  school  of  the  Stoics,  who  did  not  believe  in 
metempsychosis  ;  secondly,  the  soul,  as  we  shall  presently 
*    Vide  Ch.  I.  .^  5  (p.  64). 


144  GREEK   THINKERS. 

have  reason  to  show,  was  not  conceived  in  the  whole  course 
of  this  period  as  the  sum  of  the  intellectual  or  moral 
qualities  by  which  the  individual  is  constituted,  and  apart 
altogether  from  these  objections,  the  doctrine  of  the  trans- 
migration of  souls  does  not  explain  what  needs  explanation. 
The  theory  we  are  dealing  with  requires  the  simultaneous 
resurrection  of  innumerable  men  in  the  identical  shapes  of 
body  as  well  as  of  soul.  Furthermore,  if  Eudemus  was 
to  come  to  life  again  with  the  same  corporal  and  psychical 
disposition  which  clothed  him  at  that  moment,  his  physical 
progenitors  and  their  ancestors  in  turn,  no  less  than  the 
whole  series  of  his  intellectual  forebears,  Aristotle  his 
master,  and  his  masters  Plato,  Socrates,  and  so  forth,  must 
previously  have  returned  to  existence.  Again,  if  the  staff 
which  he  was  then  swinging  was  to  be  placed  in  his  hands 
once  more,  the  tree  from  which  it  was  cut  must  have  grown 
afresh,  it  must  have  sprung  from  the  same  seed  and  taken 
root  in  the  same  soil  as  aforetime.  But  we  need  not 
elaborate  these  details;  we  are  doubtless  correct  in  assuming 
that  Eudemus  was  merely  exemplifying  for  his  own  disciples 
and  contemporaries  a  universal  law  which  he  deemed  valid 
for  all  other  generations  and  events.  Briefly  stated,  each 
several  recurrence  of  all  existing  persons,  things,  and  phe- 
nomena can  solely  be  accomplished  by  the  fresh  unwinding 
of  a  finished  web  of  causation.  And  here  we  believe  we  are 
confronted,  not  with  a  contingent  circumstance,  but  with  the 
central  essence  of  the  doctrine.  It  embraces  two  conditions  : 
First,  the  belief  in  the  strict  causal  concatenation  of  every- 
thing that  happens  ;  secondly,  the  belief  in  a  fresh  and  abso- 
lutely similar  starting-point  for  this  series  of  causation.  It 
is  with  no  sense  of  surprise  that  we  discover  the  first  condi- 
tion in  Pythagorism.  We  have  already  met  it  in  Heraclitus 
in  passages  which  we  correctly  interpreted  as  the  echo  of 
the  fundamental  innovations  introduced  by  Pythagoras  into 
physics.  And  the  theory  of  numbers  itself  is  at  bottom 
nothing  but  a  belief  in  the  rule  of  universal  law  embracing 
all  occurrences.  In  this  connection  we  note  that  Heraclitus 
drew  no  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  psychical  and 
physical  processes,  and  we  have  no  reason  to  be  surprised 


RECURRE.YCE    OF    THE   BEGINNING.  1 45 

at  what  we  may  call  the  natural  and  naive  determinism 
of  an  age  when  the  problem  of  will  had  not  yet  been  formu- 
lated. We  reach  now  the  second  premiss  of  the  Pytha- 
gorean doctrine  contained  in  the  remark  of  Eudemus.  It 
is  merely  the  assertion  of  the  principle  with  almost  mathe- 
matical precision  of  the  cyclical  recurrence  of  an  original 
condition  of  the  world.  The  presumption  of  the  same 
natural  factors  in  equal  number  and  like  distribution,  and 
pervaded  by  the  same  powers,  is  itself  the  presumption  of 
a  source  from  which  the  stream  of  causation,  flowing  a 
second  time,  will  reproduce  its  occurrences  with  faithful 
and  detailed  exactitude.  Now,  is  it  legitimate,  we  may 
ask,  for  those  of  our  own  philosophers  who  expect 
that  the  solar  system  at  least  will  return  to  its  starting- 
point,  to  draw  the  same  conclusions  which  the  Pytha- 
goreans drew .-'  The  resisting  medium  with  which  space 
is  presumably  filled  is  to  effect  a  gradual  decay  of  the 
original  impulse  of  planetary  motion  ;  it  is  to  bring  about 
the  prevalence  of  the  central  attraction,  which  is  con- 
stantly renewed,  and  it  is  finally  to  cause  the  precipitation 
of  the  planets  into  the  sun,  which  will  be  followed  by  the 
production  of  an  immense  amount  of  heat  and  by  the  trans- 
formation of  the  whole  system  into  that  nebulous  mass  from 
which  it  first  proceeded.  Starting  from  these  premises, 
must  we  not  reach  the  conclusion  of  a  universal  and  minute 
repetition  of  all  earthly  processes  .-'  The  conclusion  is 
unavoidable,  we  reply,  provided  that  the  region  which  is 
occupied  by  the  sun,  the  planets,  and  their  satellites  be 
enclosed  in  a  kind  of  ring-fence,  shut  in  and  shut  out  on 
all  sides.  But  there  is  no  district  of  the  universe  which 
can  be  compared  with  Fichte's  "  close  community."  Not 
to  speak  of  the  enormous  quantities  of  heat  which  in  the 
course  of  millions  of  years  have  been  radiated  into  space 
and  have  never  returned,  every  meteorite  and  every 
meteoric  particle  which  has  wandered  into  our  system 
from  another  sphere  of  attraction,  or  from  ours  into  another, 
every  ray  of  light  that  has  passed  from  Sirius  to  the  sun 
or  from  the  sun  to  Sirius — all  have  contributed  to  shift  the 
balance  of  matter  and  force  in  our  system  in  a  degree 
VOL.  I.  L 


146  GREEK    THINKERS. 

which  prevents  the  possibility  of  its  exact  reproduction  from 
the  beginning.  The  "universal  formula,"  to  adapt  a  well- 
known  reflection  of  Laplace,  from  which  a  mind  adequate  to 
the  task  could  deduce  the  whole  sequence  of  development 
down  to  its  smallest  details  could  not  conceivably  be  the 
same  in  both  cases.  It  may  be  argued,  however,  that  the 
u'hole  of  the  universe,  and  not  any  part  of  it,  should  be 
taken  as  the  field  in  which  this  process  of  identical  causation 
is  enacted.  To  this  we  reply  that  spectrum  analysis  has 
revealed  to  us  growing  worlds  by  the  side  of  decaying 
worlds,  so  that  various  phases  of  development  are  simul- 
taneously exhibited  in  different  parts  of  the  universe.  But 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  of  these  objections  could 
have  occurred  to  the  philosophers  of  antiquity.  Once 
more  they  were  saved  by  the  comparative  narrowness  of  their 
science,  which  permitted  them,  undistracted  by  the  limi- 
tations or  the  misgivings  of  detailed  knowledge,  to  hold  fast 
to  thoughts  true  in  their  essence  and  pregnant  with  great 
results.  Thus  they  were  able  to  think  their  thoughts  out 
to  the  end,  and  to  express  them  in  splendid  pictures  which 
seize  the  imagination  of  mankind. 

The  theory  of  cosmic  uniformity  spinning  itself  out 
without  beginning  or  end  might  conceivably  be  pillorized 
as  a  joyless  and  comfortless  doctrine.  The  greater,  then, 
is  the  honour  due  to  the  author  who  proved  himself 
completely  free  from  the  weakness  of  condemning  a  thesis 
as  false,  if  it  does  not  flatter  the  wishes  of  our  heart. 
In  searching  for  this  author,  the  name  of  Hippasus  of 
Metapontum  occurs  to  us.  He  was  counted  among 
the  Pythagoreans,  but  in  common  with  Heraclitus,  he 
regarded  the  primar}^  matter  as  fire,  and  taught  the 
doctrine  of  the  destruction  and  reconstruction  of  the 
world  in  definite  periods.  As  a  thinker  who  followed 
in  Heraclitus'  footsteps,  he  would  obviously  empha- 
size the  reign  of  universal  law  in  natural  and  human 
life.  The  Stoics,  too,  who  looked  up  to  Heraclitus 
with  reverent  awe,  would  not  refuse  to  accept  a  theory 
which  played  a  considerable  part  in  their  own  .system 
from  the  hands  of  a    Pythagorean  who   was  at  the  same 


ALCM/EON  OF   CROTON.  147 

time  half  a  Heraclitean.  But  we  must  resign  the  hope  of 
complete  certainty.  In  all  discussions  of  this  school  of 
thought  it  is  always  difficult  and  generally  purposeless  to 
attempt  to  draw  distinctions  of  that  kind.  The  very  piety 
of  the  Pythagoreans  towards  the  Master,  on  whose  head 
they  heaped  all  the  honours  without  regard  to  their  per- 
sonal claims,  is  an  obstacle  in  the  path  of  this  inquiry. 
No  field  of  literature  is  more  crowded  with  apocryphal 
monuments,  and  it  is  on  these  that  we  have  chiefly  to 
depend  for  the  record  of  the  work  of  individuals.  Many 
names  have  reached  us  of  the  earlier  adherents  of  the 
school,  but  they  are  little  more  than  names.  The  men 
and  women  they  conceal — for  women  too  took  an  eager 
part  in  the  semi-religious  movement  inaugurated  by 
Pythagoras — were  united  in  a  close  community.  Their 
loyalty  to  one  another,  the  communistic  solidarity  of 
their  interests,  and  the  altruistic  friendship  they  displayed, 
are  features  as  characteristic  of  the  brotherhood  as  their 
earnest  endeavour  to  moderate  and  control  their  passions. 
For  the  ideas  of  harmony  and  measure  which  prevailed 
in  their  philosophy  were  likewise  the  ideals  of  their  life. 
One  man  only,  of  marked  individuality,  is  in  clear  relief 
against  this  background.  His  astronomy  shows  us  that  the 
influence  of  the  early  lonians  was  stronger  than  that  of 
Pythagoras,  but  his  intimate  connection  with  some  mem- 
bers at  least  of  the  Pythagorean  community  is  obvious  from 
the  dedication  of  his  work. 

5.  "  Alcmaion  of  Croton,  son  of  Pirithous,  to  Brontinus, 
Leon,  and  Bathyllus,  saith  " — thus  runs  the  beginning  of 
the  book,  which  unfortunately  survives  but  in  a  few  frag- 
ments. "The  gods  alone,"  it  continues,  "possess  full 
certainty  touching  the  invisible  things,  but,  in  order  to 
draw  contingent  conclusions  after  the  fashion  of  mankind" — 
here,  unhappily,  the  sentence  is  interrupted  like  a  broken 
sign-post  on  the  road  to  truth.  The  physician  of  Croton, 
a  younger  contemporary  of  Pythagoras,  was  fully  conscious 
of  the  limits  of  human  knowledge.  In  departments  where 
the  evidence  of  the  senses  was  excluded  he  confined  him- 
self   to    conjectural    utterances,    and   to    the    drawing    of 


148  GREEK   THINKERS. 

inferences  in  which  we  confidently  expect  to  see  traces  of 
careful  observation  and  of  some  regard  for  circumspect 
reasoning.  The  sentence  we  have  quoted  just  now  raises 
hopes  of  a  series  of  detached  tenets  and  not  of  a  com- 
plete system  embracing  all  things  human  and  divine.  It 
promises  more  because  it  pledges  itself  to  less. 

Alcmaeon's  chief  work  was  accomplished  in  the  fields  of 
anatomy  and  physiology.  His  claim  to  immortality  rests 
on  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first  to  recognize  the  brain  as 
the  central  organ  of  intellectual  activity.  A  trustworthy 
tradition  relates  that  he  used  the  evidence  of  animal  dis- 
section, and  his  own  references  seem  to  support  this 
aoccunt.  By  this  means  he  discovered  the  chief  nerves  of 
sense,  which  he  agrees  with  Aristotle  in  calling  "  conduits," 
or  "canals,"  and  traced  them  to  their  termination  in  the 
brain.  Modern  science  reinforces  the  functional  significance 
of  such  anatomical  facts  by  observations  taken  during 
illnesses  or  lesions,  and  Alcmseon  followed  the  same  method. 
We  know  for  certain  that  he  employed  in  this  way  the 
disturbances  of  the  senses  which  result  from  concussion 
of  the  brain.  He  explained  them  in  a  rational  though 
somewhat  one-sided  fashion  by  what  we  should  call  an 
interruption  of  the  conducting  lines.  Deafness  and  blind- 
ness, according  to  Alcmaeon,  were  caused  by  the  shifting 
of  the  brain  out  of  its  normal  position,  and  by  the  conse- 
quent closing  of  the  roads  by  which  impressions  of  sight 
and  hearing  commonly  reached  it.  The  widespread 
belief  that  the  sperma  originates  in  the  spinal  marrow  he 
refuted  by  the  direct  evidence  of  animals  killed  immediately 
after  coition  and  showing  no  diminution  of  the  marrow 
contained  in  the  vertebrae.  It  will  readily  be  under- 
stood that  Alcmaeon's  positive  contributions  to  the  theories 
of  procreation  and  embryology  could  have  had  no  particu- 
lar value.  Of  more  importance  was  his  doctrine  concern- 
ing sickness  and  health,  which  was  not  without  influence 
on  succeeding  philosophers.  Health  he  represented  as 
maintained  by  the  equilibrium  or  "  isonomy "  of  the 
material  qualities  existing  in  the  body.  A  surplusage  of 
one  of  those  qualities  would  be  the  cause  of  illness,  and  the 


HIS   DOCTRINE    OF   THE   SENSES.  1 49 

cure  would  be  effected  by  the  restoration  of  the  disturbed 
equilibrium,  whether  by  natural  or  by  artificial  means.  As 
"  the  majority  of  human  things,"  including  the  qualities 
aforesaid,  occur  at  once  as  contraries  and  pairs,  the  remedy 
was  obviously  easier.  An  excess  of  cold  would  be  cured 
or  corrected  by  an  increase  of  heat,  too  much  dryness  by 
an  antidote  of  moisture,  and  so  forth.  This  theory  enjoyed 
a  long  life.  We  meet  it  as  late  as  in  the  writings  of 
Geber,  the  master  of  the  Arabian  alchemists.  But  it  was 
contracted  and  petrified,  as  it  were,  by  the  Hippocratic 
pathology  of  the  humours,  in  which  the  causes  of  sickness 
were  referred  to  the  excess  and  undue  diminution  of  the 
chief  fluids  of  the  body. 

Alcmaeon  submitted  the  several  senses  to  a  searching 
investigation,  with  the  exception  of  the  sense  of  touch. 
This  omission  redounds  to  his  credit,  inasmuch  as  he 
apparently  disdained  to  fill  up  by  arbitrary  guesswork 
the  blanks  that  could  not  but  occur  here  in  his  scanty 
empirical  knowledge.  In  each  instance  his  starting- 
point  was  the  anatomical  constitution  of  the  respective 
organs  of  sense.  The  air-hole  in  the  ear,  for  example, 
he  regarded  as  a  resounding-board,  and  he  explained  the 
capacity  of  the  tongue  to  reduce  solid  bodies  to  fluids,  as 
a  preliminary  to  the  sensation  of  taste,  by  the  moisture, 
softness,  and  flexibility  of  that  member,  and  by  its  fulness 
of  blood,  which  he  called  heat.  Furthermore,  Alcmaion 
was  the  first  to  turn  his  attention  to  the  subjective  im- 
pressions of  sense,  thus  opening  the  path  which  was 
ultimately  to  lead  to  a  deeper  insight  into  the  nature  of 
the  act  of  perception  and  of  the  process  of  cognition  in 
general.  Plainly,  however,  he  merely  took  the  first  step. 
His  curiosity  was  aroused  by  the  photopsy  in  an  eye 
which  has  received  a  heavy  blow,  and  this  phenomenon 
stimulated  his  powers  of  scientific  imagination.  It  forms, 
we  conceive,  no  mean  evidence  of  Alcmajon's  genius  for 
science  that  he  realized  the  significance  of  this  rare  and 
abnormal  phenomenon,  and  regarded  it  as  the  key  to  the 
normal  act  of  vision.  It  was  inevitable  that  his  explana- 
tion should  be  crude  and  childish  in  character.     He  seized 


150  GREEK   THINKERS. 

on  a  purely  material  factor,  where  we  speak  of  the 
specific  energy  of  the  nerve  of  sense.  He  postulated  fire 
in  the  eye ;  and  in  the  fire  which  it  does  not  contain  and 
the  water  which  it  does  he  found  his  two  indispensable 
vehicles  of  visual  perception — a  light-giving  and  a  trans- 
parent element. 

The  rudiments  of  physiology  led  to  the  rudiments  of 
psychology.  In  this  field  Alcmaeon's  contemporaries 
confounded  well-nigh  indiscriminately  the  functions  of 
the  intellect,  and  his  endeavours  were  directed  to  im- 
posing order  on  the  chaos.  He  derived  memory  from 
sense-perception,  and  ideation  or  opinion  (Doxa)  from 
memory.  From  memory  and  Doxa  combined  he  derived 
the  reason  or  insight  which  distinguished  human-kind 
alone  from  the  lower  orders  of  being.  The  soul,  as  he 
taught,  was  immortal,  and  he  based  his  conviction  on 
an  argument  which  sounds  strangely  in  our  ears.  The 
immortality  of  the  soul  was  due  to  its  likeness  to  the 
immortals,  and  that  likeness  consisted  in  the  incessant 
motion  which  it  displayed  in  common  with  the  gods,  for 
sun,  moon,  stars,  and  the  whole  firmament  were  conceived 
as  never  at  rest.  It  is  obvious  that  no  one  who  held  this 
belief  could  regard  the  soul  as  wholly  immaterial ;  other- 
wise he  would  hardly  have  compared  it  with  the  luminaries 
which,  despite  their  divine  and  indestructible  attributes,  yet 
possess  a  body  and  dimension.  Still  less  would  he  have 
based  its  claim  to  immortality  on  its  resemblance  to  those 
luminaries  in  respect,  not  to  their  divinity,  but  to  their 
ceaseless  motion  in  space.  When  we  come  to  ask  what 
led  Alcmaeon  to  attribute  constant  motion  to  the  soul, 
we  see  that  he  could  not  have  derived  it  from  the  un- 
interrupted psychical  processes  of  ideation,  emotion, 
and  volition.  For  even  if  he  left  the  possibility  of 
an  absolutely  dreamless  sleep  wholly  out  of  account,  he 
must  have  perceived  that  body  and  soul  stood  precisely 
on  a  level  in  this  respect.  Pulsation,  respiration,  and  so 
forth,  which  are  processes  of  the  body,  are  incessant 
movements  too.  It  is  clear,  then,  that  Alcmaeon  con- 
ceived   "  psyche "   in    some   wider    sense,   which    included 


AND    OF   THE   SOUL.  151 

the    source   of  all  spontaneous   bodily  processes — in    one 
word,  as  the  vital  force.     He  must  actually  have  regarded 
it  as  a  well-spring  of  force,  a  conception  fully  confirmed 
by  Plato,  who  transformed  and  extended  the  doctrine,  and 
spoke    of   the    soul    in    precisely   this   connection    as   the 
"  source  and  spring  "  of  movement.     At  the  present  date, 
it  must  be  added,  the  whole  argument  is  very  irrelevant. 
We    no    longer    regard    the  stars   as    truly  imperishable, 
and  we  have  ceased  to  look  elsewhere  than  to  the  chemical 
processes   attendant   on    respiration  and  nutrition  for  the 
springs  of  vital  force.    But,  to  revert  to  Alcmaeon,  our  philo- 
sophic physician  undertook  the  further  task  of  proving  the 
perishability  of  the  body.    "  Men  perish,"  he  wrote — and  his 
dictum  may  be  extended  to  animals — "because  they  are 
unable  to  join  their  beginning  to  their  end."     The  words 
sound    enigmatic,  but    they  are   fully   illuminated   by  the 
context  in  which  Aristotle,  our  authority,  employs  them. 
Alcmaeon's  meaning  is  simply  this  :    If  old  age  were  not 
merely  figuratively  but  literally  a  second  childhood,  men 
(and  animals)  would  be  able  to  live  for  ever,  since  a  cycle 
would  be  created  which  could  be  constantly  renewed.    But 
the   series   of  changes  suffered   at  the  various  periods  of 
human  (and  animal)  life  follow  a   progressive,  and   not  a 
cyclical  line.    It  is  quite  conceivable,  therefore,  that  the  pro- 
gress should  lead  to  an  ultimate  goal.     There  was  nothing 
to  prompt  Alcmaeon  to  adopt  a  third  hypothesis  lying  out- 
side of  these  alternatives,  that  the  aforesaid  series  of  changes 
resemble  a  straight  or  a  crooked  line  continued  to  infinity. 
The   natural  processes,  by  the  analogy  of  which  he  was 
led,  suggested  but  those  alternatives ;  and,  parenthetically 
remarked,    it    is    greatly   to   his    credit  that    he    used   the 
analogical  method,  and  did  not  acquiesce  in  the  a  priori 
assumption,  "All  that  is  created  must  necessarily  decay." 
It  is  an    assumption  which  has  frequently  been   repeated 
from  antiquity  down  to  the  most  recent  times,  despite  the 
fact  that  it  is  untenable  in  itself,  and  that,  as  we  now  know, 
it  is  refuted  by  the  example  of  the  simplest  organic  forma- 
tion, the  protoplasm.      Modern  science,  we  may  add,  has 
not  made  much  progress  with  this  problem  since  the  date 


152  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  the  "  Father  of  Physiology."  It  recognizes  changes  due 
to  old  age  which,  apart  from  the  countless  injuries  by  which 
the  complicated  human  organism  is  constantly  threatened, 
tend  of  themselves  to  its  final  decay.  But  when  it  comes 
to  the  question  of  the  causes  governing  these  changes,  the 
mists  are  as  thick  to-day  as  they  were  four  and  twenty 
centuries  ago. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  inquire  more  deeply  into  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  sage  of  Croton,  to  discover,  if  we 
could,  his  thoughts  about  the  Deity,  about  primary  matter, 
and  the  origin  of  the  human  race.  But  our  authorities 
are  dumb.  And  this  conspiracy  of  silence  is  plainly  not 
accidental.  Alcmaeon  differed  from  his  predecessors  in  not 
proposing  a  solution  for  every  problem  that  confronted 
him.  And  his  reticence  reminds  us  that  we  are  no  longer 
watching  the  "beginnings"  of  Greek  science.  It  reminds 
us  that  we  have  already  crossed  the  threshold  of  the  era 
in  which  the  spirit  of  criticism  and  scepticism  takes  loftier 
flights  than  heretofore. 


BOOK    II. 

FROM  METAPHYSICS    TO  POSITIVE   SCIENCE. 

"  Ein  metaphysisclicr  Schluss  ist  entweder  ein  Trugschluss  oder  ein 
versteckter  Erfahrungsschluss." — H.  voN  Helmholtz. 


(     155     ) 


CHAPTER    I. 

XENOPHANES. 

I.  Many  whose  wanderings  led  them  through  the  provinces 
of  Greece  about  500  B.C.  would  have  met  an  aged  minstrel 
sturdily  stepping"  along,  and  followed  by  a  slave  who 
carried  his  guitar  and  his  slender  household  utensils.  In 
the  public  squares  and  market-places  he  would  be  thronged 
by  crowds  of  the  populace,  and  he  would  offer  the  gaping 
multitude  the  commonest  wares  that  he  bore,  stories  of 
heroes  and  of  the  foundation  of  cities,  of  his  own  or  alien 
manufacture.  For  his  more  trusted  customers,  however,  he 
would  dive  in  the  recesses  of  his  memory  for  stores  of  a 
more  select  kind,  which  his  happy  art  would  successfully 
press  on  the  reluctant  acceptation  of  his  audience.  The  poor 
rhapsodist,  who  regarded  a  palatable  meal  as  the  fit  reward 
for  artistic  fame,  was  the  greatest  and  the  most  influential 
innovator  of  his  age.  This  minstrel's  calling  was  by  no 
means  remunerative,  but  it  served  to  screen  the  perilous 
activity  of  the  religious  and  philosophic  missionary.  The 
wrinkled  and  white-haired  veteran  had  fought  in  the  hey- 
day of  youth  against  the  national  foe.  At  the  age  of  five 
and  twenty  years,  when  victory  crowned  the  standard  of  the 
conqueror,  and  Ionia  became  a  Persian  province,*  Xeno- 
phanes  ranged  himself  with  the  Phocaeans,  the  most  hot- 
blooded  of  his  countrymen,  to  found  a  new  home  in  the 
far  West  in  the  Italian  townstead  of  Elea.  The  old  name 
still  belongs  to  a  single  soaring  tower  overhanging  a  deep- 
receding  bay  at  the  gorge  of  a  wide  valley  divided  by  a 

*  545  Ji-c. 


156  GREEK    THINKERS. 

double  range  of  hills  into  three  narrower  chasms,  with  the 
snows  of  the  Calabrian  mountains  in  the  background.    Here 
Xenophanes  made  his'home,  and  here,  at  more  than  ninety- 
two  years  old,  he  closed   his  tired  eyes,  bequeathing  his 
work  to  disciples,  who  revered   him   as  the   master  of  a 
powerful   and   influential  school.     Oblivion  has   fallen   on 
the  epic  poems  that  he  wrote,  describing  in  thousands  of 
verses  the   foundation  of  piny  Colophon,  his  mother-city, 
and    the    settlement    in    Elea.      But    many    a    precious 
fragment  remains  of  his  didactic  poem  with  its  philosophic 
depth  of  thought,    as   well  as  of  his  fascinating  elegies, 
pointing   to   so   much  genuine  wit  and   genial  warmth  in 
their  author,  whom  one  cannot  but  love  and  honour  as  a 
man    of    fearless    mind    and    unimpeachable    intentions. 
True,   he  poured   the  vials  of  his   scorn  over  much  that 
was   dear  to   the   heart  of  his  people;  the  figures  of  the 
epic  gods  were  especially  reserved  for  his  indignation  on 
account  of  the  example  they  supplied.    Homer  and  Hesiod, 
he  maintained,  taught  men  no  better  lessons  than  "theft, 
adultery,  and  mutual  deceit."   And,  generally,  the  anthropo- 
morphic conception  of  the  divine  aroused  his  most  vehement 
opposition.     If  bulls,   horses,  and   lions,    he    argued,   had 
hands   to   paint   pictures   or   mould    statues,    they    would 
represent  the  gods  as  lions,  horses,  and  bulls,  just  as  men 
represent   them   in   their  own    image.     And    Xenophanes 
stood    equally  aloof  from  other    departments  of   national 
life,   which   he  regarded  with    no   less    hostility.      In    his 
view  it  was  the  height  of  absurdity  to  crown  the  victor  in  the 
boxing  match  or  wrestling  bout,  in  the  foot-race  or  chariot- 
race,  with  the  highest  honours.     And  it  seemed  to  increase 
the  humiliating  aspect  of  his  own  fortune  in  life  when  he 
saw  the  brilliant  reception  accorded  by  the  mass  of  the 
people  to  the  brute  strength  of  the  prize-fighter.     "  It  is 
ill  done,"  wrote  Xenophanes,  "to  cherish  the  strength  of 
the  body  higher  than  beneficent  wisdom,"  and  "better  is 
our  wisdom  than  the  strength  of  horses  and  men."     Thus, 
one   after  another,   he   attacked  the  institutions  sacred  to 
Greek  tradition.     He  had   no  more  respect  for  the  high, 
heavenly  images  of  earthly  existence  than  for  the  worship 


HIS   BREAK    WITH   TRADITION.  1 57 

of  the  powers  of  the  human  body  and  of  the  beauty  of 
man.  It  is  impossible  to  pursue  this  inquiry  without 
asking  how  it  happened  that  Xenophanes  broke  away  so 
suddenly  from  the  habits  of  his  own  people,  and  whence 
he  derived  this  reaction  from  the  national  standards  of 
sensibility  and  thought — a  reaction  which  opened  and 
pointed  the  way  to  the  boldest  innovations  of  later  times. 
The  answer  is  found  in  the  ominous  decree  of  history, 
of  which  Xenophanes  was  a  witness  in  the  impres- 
sionable days  of  youth.  He  saw  Ionia  fall  before  the 
sceptre  of  the  Great  King.  He  saw  its  inhabitants  bow 
with  hardly  a  show  of  resistance  to  the  yoke  of  the 
stranger.  Phocaea  and  Tcos  alone  chose  freedom  in 
exile  before  bondage  at  home,  and  the  rising  generation 
which  watched  these  stirring  events  could  not  but  feel 
their  influence  in  its  views  on  life  and  the  world.  Self- 
knowledge  and  reform  have  at  all  times  been  the  message 
which  great  minds  have  received  from  the  downfall  of 
their  country  and  the  loss  of  national  independence. 
When  Napoleon  had  triumphed  over  Germany,  and  Jena 
and  Auerstadt  had  been  fought  and  lost,  national  senti- 
ment and  historical  Romanticism  began  to  succeed  to  the 
reign  of  Rationalism  and  cosmopolitan  ideas,  and  a  no 
less  far-reaching  change  took  place  after  the  victories  of 
Cyrus  over  the  Greeks  of  Asia  Minor.  That  crushing 
defeat  could  not  satisfactorily  be  accounted  for  by 
blaming  the  luxury  and  effeminacy  of  Oriental  life. 
Xenophanes  did  not  fail  to  accuse  the  upper  "thousand" 
of  his  fellow-citizens  who  had  "previously  learnt  useless 
splendour  from  the  Lydians,  and  had  walked  across  the 
market-place  clothed  in  purple  and  dripping  with  unguents." 
But  his  penetrating  wisdom  did  not  stop  at  this  point,  lie 
subjected  to  a  searching  examination  the  moral  standards 
and  the  ideals  of  the  people,  their  masters  and  their 
sources ;  and  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  a  man 
of  penetrating  intellect  and  character  should  have  de- 
nounced as  the  root  of  the  evil  the  materialized  religion 
of  the  Greeks,  and  the  epic  poetry,  its  mouthpiece,  with 
which   the    rhapsodist  would    be   but  too  well  acquainted. 


158  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Though  his  heart  bled  at  the  necessity,  yet  he  tore  himself 
away  from  the  traditions  of  his  nation  ;  he  turned  his  back, 
not  merely  on  his  dishonoured  country  but  on  the  ideals 
that  it  cherished.  The  iconoclastic  criticism  that  he 
practised  was  eminently  favoured  by  his  long  period  of 
vagabondage,  which  he  himself  computed  at  no  less 
than  sixty-seven  years,  with  the  exceptional  breadth  of 
his  horizon  in  the  world  of  space  and  time.  Nor  was 
his  withering  sarcasm  confined  to  the  contradictions,  the 
absurdities,  and  the  degrading  features  of  the  legends  of 
the  gods  and  heroes.  He  scrutinized  the  workshop  of 
anthropomorphism  with  all  the  discrepancies  and  con- 
trarieties of  its  various  religious  products.  Xenophanes 
knew  that  the  negro  represented  his  gods  as  snub-nosed 
and  black,  whereas  the  gods  of  the  Thracians  displayed 
blue  eyes  and  red  hair ;  and  the  philosopher  could  conceive 
no  reason  why  the  Greeks  should  be  right,  but  the 
Thracians  and  negroes  wrong.  His  acquaintance  with 
the  Phcenician  lament  for  Adonis  did  not  exclude  an 
acquaintance  with  the  Egyptian  lament  for  Osiris,  and 
his  ban  fell  on  both  alike  and  on  the  allied  rites  of  the 
Greeks.  When  they  wept  for  their  dead  gods,  he  scorn- 
fully bade  them  take  their  choice  ;  let  them  mourn  such 
beings  as  mortal  men  or  worship  them  as  immortal  gods. 
Thus  Xenophanes  was  the  first  to  use  the  methods  of 
indirect  attack  and  of  mutual  demolition  which  rest  on 
comparison  and  parallelism— methods  which  proved  such 
effective  weapons  in  the  war  against  positive  tenets  and 
dogmas  when  wielded  by  a  Voltaire  or  a  Montesquieu. 

2.  But  the  sage  of  Colophon,  like  the  sage  of  Ferney,  was 
not  a  mere  mocker  at  religion.  Xenophanes  too  worshipped 
"  a  Supreme  Being,"  for — 

"  There  is  a  greatest  god  among  gods  as  well  as  among  men, 
Nor  is  he  mortal  in  form,  nor  is  his  thought  as  a  mortal's." 

This  god  is  not  the  creator  of  the  universe  :  he  is  neither 
outside  the  world  nor  above  it ;  but  though  never  ex- 
pressly so  called,  he  is,  virtually,  the  soul  or  spirit  of 
the  universe.     In  a  passage  of  Aristotle,  which  is  plainly  a 


XENOPHANES'   SUPREME    GOD.  1 59 

transcript  and  not  deductive  in  character,  we  are  told  that 
"  Xenophaiies  looked  at  the  whole  structure  of  heaven,  and 
declared  this  One  to  be  the  Deity."  And  Timon  the 
Phliasian,*  who  composed  a  satiric  poem  ridiculing  the 
teachings  of  philosophy,  puts  the  following  words  in  the 
mouth  of  Xenophanes  :  "  Wherever  I  turn  my  mind,  every- 
thing resolves  itself  in  a  single  Unity."  Our  thinker  him- 
self says  of  his  supreme  god  that  "  he  governs  everything 
by  the  power  of  his  mind,"  and  we  should  be  inclined  to 
discover  a  dualistic  tendency  in  that  phrase  if  it  were  not 
corrected  by  expressions  that  meet  us  at  the  same  time. 
The  god  is  denied  the  possession  of  human  members  and 
organs  when  he  is  said  by  Xenophanes  "  to  see  and  hear 
and  think  as  a  Whole,"  but  he  is  not  therefore  regarded 
as  outside  the  conditions  of  space.  And  when  we  further 
read  of  him  that  "  he  clings  undisturbed  to  the  same  place, 
and  is  averse  from  every  movement,"  this  description 
expressly  shows  that  he  is  extended  in  space,  as  the 
universe,  we  may  add,  is  immovable  and  changeless  as  a 
whole,  though  this  cannot  be  predicated  of  its  parts.  At 
this  point  we  cannot  help  smiling  at  the  sight  of  the  stout 
assailant  of  anthropomorphism  made  the  victim  of  an  an- 
thropomorphic attack.  The  changeless  rest  of  the  Supreme 
Deity  is  justified  on  the  ground  that  "  it  does  not  beseem 
him  to  wander  hither  and  thither."  It  is  a  striking  phrase, 
but  it  obviously  means  nothing  more  than  that  the  chief 
of  the  gods  must  not  hurry  officiously  to  and  fro  like  an 
obsequious  serving-man  ;  he  must  cultivate  the  majestic 
inactivity  of  a  king  on  his  throne.  But  the  conception  of 
the  Highest  Being  hovering  between  mind  and  matter 
may  be  proved  with  certainty  on  other  grounds  as  well. 
Dualistic  theism  is  as  alien  to  the  predecessors  of  Xeno- 
phanes as  to  his  contemporaries  and  followers,  and  the 
philosopher's  "  God-Nature  "  is  not  a  jot  more  remarkable 
than  the  Primary  Being  of  Anaximander,  which  was  at 
once  material  and  divine,  or  the  thought-endowed  Fire  of 
Heraclitus.  The  sy.stem  of  the  disciples  of  Xenophanes  did 
not  afford  any  room  for  a  creator  of  the  world,  or  for  the 
*   I'orn  circa  300  li.C. 


l6o  GREEK    THINKERS. 

deliberate  methods  of  a  master- craftsman,  still  less  for  a 
heavenly  father  manifesting  his  anxiety  by  single  acts  of 
interference,  or  for  a  judge  dispensing  punishments  and 
rewards.  Yet  who  would  ever  have  thought  of  regarding 
the  Eleatic  metaphysicians  as  the  disciples  of  Xenophanes 
if  they  had  differed  from  him,  who  was  theologian  far  more 
than  metaphysician,  in  respect  to  his  fundamental  theory 
of  the  godhead  ?  And  when  we  come  to  the  question  of 
Xenophanes  as  a  Pantheist,  we  see  that  there  was  nothing 
so  terribly  novel  in  his  views.  They  fall  into  their  place 
in  the  development  of  the  popular  religion,  depending 
on  the  growing  conviction  of  the  uniformity  of  nature 
and  on  the  heightened  standard  of  the  moral  conscious- 
ness. At  the  root  of  the  popular  religion  there  lay  the 
bias  to  nature-worship,  and  in  so  far  it  might  be  more 
correct  to  speak  of  reaction  than  of  innovation.  The 
reformer  in  this  instance  was  in  no  slight  degree  a  restorer 
as  well.  Beneath  the  ruins  of  the  temple  which  he 
destroyed  he  discovered  another  and  an  older  sanctuary. 
He  removed  the  anthropomorphic  stratum  of  religion, 
which  was  the  exclusive  contribution  of  the  Greeks 
embodied  in  the  poems  of  Homer  and  Hesiod,  and  laid 
bare  the  earlier  stratum  which  was  common  to  the  Aryans, 
and  which  had  been  preserved  intact  by  the  Indians  and 
especially  by  the  Persians  as  the  religion  of  nature.  At  this 
point  we  are  confronted  by  the  contentious  problem 
whether  or  not  Xenophanes  admitted  individual  gods  by 
the  side  of  his  universal  Being.  Literary  authorities, 
whose  evidence  is  now  recognized  as  worthless,  have 
denied  it ;  but  an  affirmative  answer  is  given  by  utter- 
ances of  the  philosopher  himself,  the  authenticity  of  which 
is  beyond  dispute.  We  refer  especially  to  an  explanation 
of  the  relation  of  the  lower  gods  to  the  supreme  god, 
which  is  vouched  for  as  genuine  by  an  imitation  in 
Euripides.  That  relation  was  not  intended  to  recall  the 
attitude  of  an  overlord  to  his  serfs.  The  rule  of  law  is 
precisely  the  contrary  of  the  rule  of  might,  and  it  is  the 
recognition  of  universal  order  and  uniformity  which  meets 
our   eyes  in   that   utterance.     Nor   is  there  the  remotest 


AND    THE   PANTHEON.  l6l 

reason  to  withhold  our  acceptance  from  this  solution.  It 
is  obvious  that  the  sage  of  Colophon  would  never  have 
addressed  his  prayers  to  the  children  of  Leto  and  the 
white-armed  consort  of  Zeus.  He  regarded  it  as  a 
delusion,  which  it  was  his  duty  to  combat  to  the  utmost, 
that  "the  gods,  as  mortals  believed,  were  born  and 
possessed  the  sensibility,  the  voice,  and  the  form  of  mortal 
men."  At  the  same  time,  his  philosophy  was  quite  as 
reluctant  as  that  of  his  contemporaries  and  predecessors 
to  admit  a  conception  of  nature  at  once  soulless  and  god- 
less. The  Orphics  had  emphasized  the  uniformity  of  cosmos, 
but  had  in  no  wise  denied  the  multiplicity  of  divine  beings  ; 
Heraclitus  had  tolerated  subordinate  deities  by  the  side  of 
his  thought-endowed  First  Fire  ;  Plato  and  Aristotle  them- 
selves had  shrunk  from  immolating  the  star-gods  to  their 
supreme  Deity;  and  pure  monotheism  in  its  strict  exclusive- 
ness  was  always  regarded  by  Greek  minds  as  a  sacrilege. 
This,  then,  being  the  rule,  it  would  have  been  hardly  less 
than  a  miracle  if  Xenophanes,  a  man  of  deep  religious 
feeling  and  of  essentially  Greek  modes  of  thought,  had 
formed  an  exception  to  the  rule  at  so  early  a  date.  There 
is  much  to  foster  the  belief,  and  nothing  at  all  to  gainsay  it, 
that  Xenophanes  paid  divine  homage  to  the  great  factors 
of  nature.  The  master  of  the  Eleatics  was  not  the  pioneer 
of  monotheism  ;  he  was  rather  the  herald  of  a  pantheism 
corresponding  to  the  natural  bent  of  his  countrymen,  and 
saturated  in  the  civilization  of  his  age. 

3.  The  account  of  the  genius  of  Xenophanes  is  not 
exhausted  by  this  survey.  The  poet  and  thinker  was  like- 
wise a  student  and  scholar  of  the  first  rank,  and  in  this 
capacity  he  was  praised  or  blamed  by  his  younger  con- 
temporary Heraclitus.*  The  surprise  that  we  might  have 
experienced  at  the  multifarious  activity  of  the  sage  has 
already  been  discounted,  for  it  was  plainly  his  search  for 
knowledge  that  put  the  pilgrim's  staff  in  his  hand,  and 
"  drove  his  musing  mind  to  and  fro  in  Greece  "  for  many 
restless  decades.  He  would  have  sought  rather  than  avoided 
the  farthest  boundaries  of  the  wide  colonial  area,  for  it  was 

•  Bk.  I.Ch.  I.  §  5(P-6s). 
VOL.    I.  M 


l62  GREEK    THINKERS. 

precisely  at  these  outposts  of  Hellenic  culture,  among  the 
Egyptians  of  Naucratis  or  the  Scythians  of  Olbia,  that  the 
wayfarer  would  have  been  most  welcome.  Like  a  modern 
lecturer  from  a  European  country  in  St.  Louis  or  New  York, 
he  brought  a  message  from  the  seat  of  national  learning. 
Thus  in  an  age  in  which  personal  inquiry  was  far  more 
important  than  book-knowledge,  Xenophanes  had  ample  op- 
portunity of  gathering  and  utilizing  the  richest  intellectual 
harvest.  Geology  was  the  chief  of  the  separate  sciences 
which  counted  him  among  its  oldest  experts.  So  far  as  we 
know,  he  was  the  first  to  draw  correct  and  far-reaching  in- 
ferences from  the  fossilized  remains  of  animals  and  plants. 
He  found  impressions  of  fishes,  and  probably  of  seaweeds, 
in  the  younger  Tertiary  strata  of  the  celebrated  quarries  of 
Syracuse,  and  he  discovered  all  kinds  of  marine  shells  in 
the  older  Tertiary  stratum  of  Malta.  Hence  he  deduced 
certain  changes  which  the  surface  of  the  earth  had  under- 
gone in  remote  periods,  and  as  an  anticatastrophist,  to 
follow  Sir  Charles  Lyell's  definition,  he  regarded  these 
changes,  not  as  the  result  of  immense  separate  crises,  but 
as  the  outcome  of  steady  and  imperceptibly  minute  pro- 
cesses gradually  consummated  to  effects  of  colossal  dimen- 
sions. He  assumed  a  slow  graduated  periodical  change  of 
land  and  sea,  and  the  assumption  reminds  us  of  the  cyclical 
doctrine  which  we  met  in  our  consideration  of  his  nominal 
teacher,  Anaximander.  Xenophanes  combined  it  with  a 
similar  theory  in  respect  to  the  regular  and  natural  de- 
velopment of  human  civilization — 

"Never  the  gods  showed  mortals  everything  from  the  beginning, 
But  they  search  for  themselves  until  they  discover  the  better." 

Here  a  note  of  strict  scientific  reason  is  unmistakably 
struck,  and  it  invests  the  picture  of  the  sage  of  Colophon 
with  a  new  and  by  no  means  insignificant  feature. 

Let  us  review  once  more  the  successive  stages  in  the 
lifework  of  this  extraordinary  man.  The  poignant  suffer- 
ings which  he  experienced  in  early  youth  aroused  in  his 
mind  a  spirit  of  scepticism  towards  the  worth  and 
tenability  of  the  popular  traditions,  especially  where  they 


XENOPHANES'   DEVELOPMENT.  1 63 

dealt  with  religion.      Nearly  seventy  years  of  wandering 
deepened  and  confirmed  this  scepticism  by  the  wide    ac- 
quaintance which  he  obtained  with  the  beliefs  and  habits 
and  customs  of  many  peoples  and    tribes.     They    placed 
in  his  ready  hands  the  most  effective  engines  of  iconoclasm. 
The  religious  reformer  was  now    fully  equipped    to  enter 
on  the  road  which  he  had  opened.     He  did  not  reject  the 
influence  of  his  own  moral  ideals,  of  impulses  which  might 
be  described  as  inherited  or  atavistic,  and  of  the  results  of 
the  scientific  culture  of  his  age.     His  mind,  a  storehouse 
of  refined  humanity  and  justice,  was  naturally  averse  from 
the    employment  of  rude   force,  and   led  him  to  make  a 
clean  sweep  of  all  the  elements   of  popular  belief  which 
were   hostile   to    his    higher    standard.     The    worship    of 
nature  was   imbibed   by  the   Greeks   with  their  mothers' 
milk,  and  it  came  to  more  exalted  expression  through  the 
poetical    and    religious    personality  of  Xenophanes,    who 
united   with   it   the   belief  in   the    rule   of   universal   law 
which    he    shared    with    his    more     enlightened    contem- 
poraries.   Thus  he  attained  to  a  conception  of  the  supreme 
godhead  as  a  uniform  and  all-pervading  power,  governing 
the   universe   as  the  soul  governs  the  body,   endowing   it 
with  motion  and  animation,  but   inseparably  bound  up  in 
it.       The    picture  we    are   drawing  is   not  complete  with- 
out  the    mention    of    yet    another    impulse.     Xenophanes 
was  distinguished  by  a  deep-seated  instinct  for  truth  which 
was  fostered  and  cherished  by  his  criticism  of  the  myths. 
It   led   him   to   condemn    the   conventional   theology,  not 
merely  on  account  of  its  ethical  inadequacy,  but  by  reason 
of  its  defective  justification  in  fact.     The  accepted  tenets, 
he  would  have  us  understand,  do  not  only  tell  us  what,  in 
respect  to  the  most  exalted  topics,  we  should  not  believe, 
but    they  tell  us  what  we  cannot  believe.      Some  of   the 
statements    repel   him   by  their   worthlessness,   others  by 
their  arbitrariness  as    well.     He  brought  his   hand    down 
sharply   on    conceptions  morally  innocuous,  but  monstrous 
and  adventurous,  describing,  for  instance,  as  an  "invention  of 
the  ancients  "  the  belief  in  "  giants,  Titans,  and  centaurs." 
I'urthcr,    the    teaching    of    Xenophanes    did    not    nierel)- 


164  GREEK   THINKERS. 

differ  from  that  of  his  theological  forebears,  but  he  taught 
less  than  they  did.  He  was  content  to  dwell  on  a  few 
fundamental  conceptions  without  investing  them  with 
fuller  and  more  exact  form.  In  the  words  of  Aristotle's 
grumble,  "  Xenophanes  has  expressed  himself  with  broad 
distinctness  on  no  subject."  And  his  reticence  went  yet 
further.  In  ever-memorable  verses  he  disputed  dogmatic 
certainty  in  general  with  an  implied  reflection  on  his  own 
teaching,  and  thus  it  may  be  said  that  he  repudiated  before- 
hand all  responsibility  for  the  excesses  of  dogmatizing 
disciples.  "  No  one,"  he  exclaims,  "  has  attained  complete 
certainty  in  respect  to  the  gods  and  to  that  which  I  call 
universal  nature,  nor  will  any  one  ever  attain  it.  Nay,  even 
if  a  man  happened  to  light  on  the  truth,  he  would  not  know 
that  he  did  so,  for  appearance  is  spread  over  all  things." 
We  shall  meet  this  immortal  maxim  more  than  once  in  the 
course  of  our  labours.  First,  in  the  work  of  an  eminent 
champion  of  sound  methods  of  natural  philosophy,  the 
friend  of  Hippocrates,  if  not  Hippocrates  himself,  in 
the  monograph  "  On  Ancient  Medicine,"  the  determined 
attack  on  the  arbitrariness  of  the  nature-philosophers 
which  this  pamphlet  contains  is  led  by  the  motto  we  have 
quoted  from  Xenophanes.  But  to  this  we  shall  revert 
later  on.  At  present  we  may  close  our  delineation  with 
the  remark  that  Xenophanes,  like  all  genuinely  great  men, 
was  an  amalgam  of  contrary  qualities  whose  apparent  in- 
compatibility went  deep.  He  united  in  his  own  person 
the  inspiration  of  a  god-intoxicated  enthusiast  and  the 
sober  perception  of  a  critic  acquainted  with  the  limits  of 
human  knowledge.  He  was  at  once  sower  and  reaper. 
With  one  hand  he  sowed  the  seed  from  which  a  stately 
tree  was  to  rise  in  the  forest  of  Greek  speculation  ;  with 
the  other  hand  he  sharpened  the  axe  which  was  to  fell, 
not  that  tree  alone,  but  many  another  mighty  trunk. 


(     i65     ) 


CHAPTER   II. 

PARMENIDES. 

I.    POLYBUS,   son-in-law  of   Hippocrates,   the   founder  of 
scientific  medicine,  opened  his  treatise  "on  the  nature  of 
man  "  with  a  lively  polemic.     He  attacked  physicians  and 
litterati  who  represented   the  human    body  as   composed 
of  a  single  substance.     Some  declared  this    "  All-in-one  " 
to  be  air,  others  fire,  and  others  again  water,  and  each  of 
them,  according  to  Polybus,  "  supported   his   doctrine   by 
evidence  and  proofs  which  in  reality  mean  nothing."     The 
truth  of  the  assertion,  declared  its  author,  becomes  as  clear 
as  daylight  if  one  watches  the  dialectic  tourneys  devised 
for  the  entertainment  of  the  public.     For  while  he  who 
is    in  possession   of  the   truth    makes    it  triumph    always 
and  everywhere,  here  victory  falls  to  the  chance  possessor 
of    the    most  persuasive    tongue.      And    this    memorable 
polemic  concludes  by  saying,  "  So  far  as  I  can  see,  these 
people  throw  one  another  successfully  by   means  of  their 
speeches,  and   by  their  imprudence   they  help  the   thesis 
of  Melissus  on  its  legs."     Now,  arguments  which  help   a 
doctrine  on   its  legs,  which  support  it  and  strengthen  it, 
that  is  to  say,  may   fairly  be   supposed  to  have  prepared 
the  way  for  it  and  to  have  contributed  to  its  first  appear- 
ance.    We   shall,  therefore,  be  well   advised    not    to   lose 
sight  of  this  incisive  remark,  but  to  bear  it  in  mind,  when 
we  are  looking  for  the  principle  of  the  Eleatic  doctrine.    Its 
fullest  expression   is   associated   with  Melissus,  a   Samian 
noble,  whose  date  is  definitely  fixed  by  the  naval  victory 
which   he   won  over    the    Athenians    in    441  B.C.     Above 


1 66  GREEK   THINKERS, 

all,  we  shall  have   to   fix  our   attention  on  two  important 
aspects  of  this  inquiry.     We  shall  have  to  determine  what 
relation  was  borne  by  Polybus  to  the  nature-philosophers 
whom  he  attacked  with  such  uncompromising  vigour,  as 
well   as   to  the  metaphysician  of  Samos,  whom  we  may 
fairly  include  as  a  member  of  the  Eleatic  school.     Polybus 
is  severed   from    his   adversaries   by   wide   differences    of 
opinion,  but  the  worst  reproach  that  he  levels  at  them  is 
that  they  assisted  the  victory  of  Melissus.   This  sounds  like 
the  admonition  of  a  good  patriot  to  whom  party  conflicts  and 
differences  are  immaterial  when  a  worse  enemy  is  knock- 
ing at  the   door.     And  such  was   actually  the  case.     The 
sharpest  contrast   with   the  physicists   and    natural  philo- 
sophers, of  all  kinds  and  schools,  was  formed  by  those  whom 
the  biting  wit  of  their  contemporaries  stigmatized  as  "un- 
natural philosophers"  or  "  stoppers-of-the-universe."     The 
"  thesis "    of    Melissus    meant    nothing    else,    to    use    his 
own  words,  than  that  "  we  neither  see  nor  know  what  is." 
The  brilliant  world  by   which  we  are  surrounded,  and  of 
which  our  senses  bring  us  tidings,  is  a  mere  semblance  and 
deception.      All   change,  all   motion,  all   growth,   and   all 
occurrences,  everything  that   provides   matter  for  natural 
science  and  speculation  is  a  dream,  a  shadow,  and  nothing 
more.     The  one  reality  behind  this  phantasmagoric  illusion 
is — what .''     The  two  pioneers  of  this  school  of  thought  part 
company  here.    In  the  destructive  part  of  their  doctrines 
they  agree,    but   they  are   not   completely  at   one  in  the 
positive  solutions  that  succeed  it.     It  will  be  well,  then,  to 
consider   the  doubts  and  negations  which  they  shared  in 
common,  having  previously  acquainted  ourselves  with  the 
older  and  more  important  representative  of  the  doctrines. 
2,  The  senior  of  Melissus  was  Parmenides,  the  veritable 
founder  of  the  famous  doctrine  of  unity.     He  was  born  at 
Elea    as    the    son   of   prosperous   and    respected   parents, 
whose  position  would  naturally  have  entitled  him  to  take 
part  in  political  life.     He  is  said  to  have  drawn  up  a  code 
of  laws   for   Elea,    and    the   well-authenticated    reference 
which  fixes  hxs  flortdt  in  the  69th  Olympiad  (504-501  B.C.) 
may  be  taken  as  the  date  of  some  public  act  of  this  kind. 


PARMENIDES    OF  ELEA.  1 67 

Xenophanes,  whose  death  must  have  occurred  after  478  B.C., 
survived  that  Olympiad  by  a  quarter  of  a  centurj^,  and  the 
two  great  men  had  undoubtedly  been  intimately  acquainted. 
But  we  shall  do  well  to  beware  of  regarding  Parmenides 
as  the  pupil  of  Xenophanes,  for  the  brief  sojourn  of  the 
wandering   rhapsodist  in   the   home  of  his  adoption  pre- 
cluded  him  from    working   as  a   teacher.     On   the   other 
hand,   we  are   acquainted  with  the  names  of  two  Pytha- 
goreans,   one   of  whom,   Aminias,   is   said  to  have  given 
Parmenides  an  impulse  to  philosophic  inquiry,  while  to  the 
other,  Diochaites,  he   felt  himself  so  much  indebted  that 
he   dedicated    a   "heroon,"    or    memorial    chapel,    to    the 
memory  of  his  master.     We  shall  presently  see  that,  as  a 
matter    of    fact,    the    philosophic    system    of    Parmenides 
owed  as   much   to    Pythagoras   as   to   Xenophanes.     The 
disciple  of  Pythagoras  was  ready  to  build  up  his  pantheistic 
doctrine  in  the  forms  of  strict  evidence  borrowed  from  the 
science    of    mathematics,    but    the    peculiar    direction    of 
thought   which   he  gave  to  it  shows  beyond  dispute  that 
Pythagorism  did  not  fully  satisfy  him.     And  if  his  thought 
was  founded  on  the  pantheism  of  Xenophanes,  and  its  lines 
were  determined  by  the  mathematics  of  Pythagoras,  it  set 
its    compass    by    yet    a    third    system,    namely,    that    of 
Heraclitus.     For  it  was  the  doctrine  of  flux,  first  formu- 
lated   by  the  sage  of  Ephesus,   which  made  the   deepest 
impression   on  the  mind  of  Parmenides.     It  sounded  the 
bottom  of  his  scepticism,  and  impelled  him,  as  it  impelled 
his  successors,  to  adopt  conclusions  of  the  kind  in  which 
the  characteristic   speculation    of  the    Eleatics    found    its 
most  powerful  expression.     The  younger  representative  of 
the   school   may  perhaps   be   taken   as  the  mouthpiece  of 
this  scepticism.     His  lucid  and  flowing  prose  will  at  least 
be  more  refreshing  in  our  cars  than  the  didactic  poetry  of 
his  master,  with  its  closclj'-packcd  arguments  and  crowded 
sentences.     Melissus'  account  runs  as  follows: — 

"  If  earth,  water,  air,  and  fire,  likewise  iron  and  gold,  are  ;  if 
the  one  be  living  and  the  otlicr  dead,  if  this  he  white  and  that  be 
black,  and  so  on  through  the  whole  range  of  things  of  which  nun 


1 68  GREEK    THINKERS. 

say  that  they  really  are ;  if  these  things  air,  and  we  see  and  hear 
aright,  then  each  and  every  object  would  have  to  be  as  it  seemed 
to  us  at  first,  and  not  change  and  become  an  object  of  a  different 
form,  but  it  would  ever  be  whatever  it  is.  Furthermore,  we  claim  to 
see  and  to  hear  and  to  recognize  aright ;  but  what  is  hot  seems  to 
us  to  become  cold,  and  what  is  cold  to  become  hot,  and  the  hard 
thing  soft,  and  the  soft  thing  hard,  and  the  living  to  die  and  to  be 
engendered  from  the  not-living,  and  all  these  changes  to  take  place, 
and  what  a  thing  tvas  and  what  it  now  is  to  be  in  no  wise  alike. 
Rather  doth  iron,  which  is  hard,  seem  to  become  rubbed  away  by 
the  finger  that  it  encircles  [as  a  ring] ;  and  gold  and  precious  stones, 
and  all  else  that  we  regarded  as  strong,  suffer  the  same  change, 
and  earth  and  stones  seem  to  be  engendered  by  water.  Where- 
fore it  ensueth,"  concludes  the  thesis  of  Melissus,  "that  we 
neither  see  nor  know  what  is." 

Two  conditions  are  accordingly  required  in  the  things 
of  sense :  the  inviolable  stability  of  their  existence,  and 
the  inviolable  stability  of  their  qualities.  In  respect  to 
each  of  these  demands,  they  are  weighed  in  the  balance 
and  found  wanting.  They  are  reproached  at  once  for 
their  perishability  and  for  their  mutability.  And  if 
the  two  demands,  and  respectively  the  two  conclusions, 
appear  as  if  they  were  one,  the  fault  lies  in  the 
ambiguity,  which  had  not  yet  been  recognized,  of  the 
verb  "to  be"  in  its  two-fold  sense,  (i)  of  "existence,"  as 
"the  sun  is,"  and  (2)  of  a  mere  copula,  as  "the  sun  is  a 
luminary."  Nor  shall  we  discuss  the  question  whether  or 
not  Melissus  was  justified  in  dismissing  the  perishable 
and  mutable  to  the  realm  of  visionary  appearance.  But 
we  can  very  well  conceive  that  the  search  for  a  sound, 
we  might  say  a  robust,  object  of  cognition  was  not 
successful  in  the  province  of  sensible  things  in  an 
age  when  the  science  of  matter  was  in  so  rudimentary  a 
stage.  The  leaf  which  is  full  of  sap  and  verdant  to-day 
is  sere  and  yellow  to-morrow,  and  brown  and  shrivelled 
the  day  after.  Where,  then,  are  we  to  seize  the  Thing 
itself;  how  recognize  and  grasp  its  permanent  element.? 
Heraclitus  compendiously  summarized  these  everyday 
experiences,  and  extended   them   beyond  the  confines  of 


HIS  ATTACK   ON  HERACLITUS.  1 69 

actual  observation,  clothing  his  resultant  scepticism  with 
a  paradoxical  garb  which  challenged  the  common 
sense  of  mankind.  Thus,  supposing  the  impulse  to 
knowledge  could  not  rest  satisfied  in  the  view  of  the  bare 
uniform  succession  of  phenomena,  not  merely  was  it  now 
deprived  of  its  foothold,  but  the  natural  desire  for  a 
harmony  of  thought,  wholly  free  from  contradictions,  was 
disturbed  and  impelled  to  protestation.  It  was  unsatis- 
factory enough  to  have  to  acquiesce  in  the  view  that  "the 
things  of  the  sensible  world  are  involved  in  incessant 
transformation,"  but  sound  reason  rose  in  revolt  against 
the  further  principle  that  "things  are  and  they  are  not," 
and  the  spirit  of  rebellion  was  strongest  among  men  of 
most  disciplined  minds.  No  wonder,  then,  that  those  who 
had  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  a  Pythagorean  or  mathe- 
matical training  were  most  strongly  affected  by  this  re- 
action, and  it  is  not  surprising  that  Parmenides,  with  his 
Pythagorean  traditions,  should  have  stigmatized  as  "the 
twin  roads  of  error"  the  common  philosophy  that  basked 
in  the  reality  of  the  sensible  world,  and,  secondly,  the 
doctrine  of  Heraclitus.  He  assailed  that  doctrine  with  the 
most  poisoned  shafts  of  his  invective.  Those  "to  whom 
being  and  not-being  are  at  once  the  same  and  not  the  same" 
he  denounces  as  "  deaf  and  blind,  helplessly  staring,  a 
confused  herd  ;  "  "double-headed"  he  calls  them  on  account 
of  the  double  aspect  of  their  Janus-like  theory  of  things;  and 
the  fate  which  his  satire  reserves  for  them  is  to  fall  into  their 
own  stream  of  flux  and  be  carried  away  on  its  flood  ; 
"know-nothings"  he  calls  them,  and  "retrograde  is  their 
path,"  like  the  metamorphoses  of  their  primary  matter. 

Characteristic  as  these  outbreaks  are  for  the  spirit  of 
the  Eleatic  philosopher  and  his  relation  to  the  doctrine  of 
Heraclitus,  his  quarrel  with  his  second  and  more  important 
adversary,  the  general  opinion  of  mankind,  is  yet  more 
fascinating  and  instructive.  The  excitement  by  which  he 
was  moved  can  be  felt  in  his  panting  sentences  and 
verses  ;  with  breathless  energy  he  struck  at  the  popular 
conception  of  the  world,  and  the  ringing  strokes  ot  his 
scepticism  fell  like  the  blows  of  an  axe.     His  iconoclastic 


I70  GREEK   THINKERS. 

method  was  applied  to  the  reahty  of  sensible  objects,  to 
birth  and  death,  and  every  motion  and  change.  We  may 
quote  the  following  phrases  from  the  negative  part  of  his 
work : — 

"  How  should  the  thing  that  is  ever  be  unmade ;  how  should  it 
ever  have  come  into  being?  If  it  came  into  being,  there  must 
have  been  a  time  when  it  was  not,  and  the  same  holds  good  if  its 
beginning  is  still  in  the  future,  .  .  . 

"  Where  wilt  thou  seek  for  the  origin  of  the  thing  that  is ;  how 
and  whence  did  it  grow  ?  I  shall  not  permit  thee  to  say  or  think 
that  it  came  forth  from  the  thing  that  is  not,  for  the  not-being  is 
unspeakable  and  unthinkable.  And  what  need,  moreover,  would 
have  driven  it  to  existence  at  one  time  rather  than  another  ?  .  .  . 

"  Furthermore,  the  power  of  insight  will  prevent  thee  from 
believing  that  out  of  the  thing  that  is  another  can  become  by  its 
side." 

And  next  to  these  negatives  we  may  put  the  following 
affirmative  utterances.  The  thing  that  is  is  not  merely 
"  not-become  and  imperishable,"  and  accordingly  "  without 
beginning  and  end  ; "  not  merely  are  "  changes  of  place 
and  shiftings  of  hue  unknown  to  it,"  but  it  is  a  limited 
and  thinking  being,  an  "  indivisible  whole,  uniform,  con- 
tinuous, similar  in  all  its  parts,  not  being  less  here  and 
greater  there,  but  resembling  the  bulk  of  a  well-rounded 
and  equably  weighted  ball."  At  these  words  the  reader 
experiences  somewhat  the  same  kind  of  shock  as  when  he 
is  startled  from  a  dream.  A  moment  ago  we  were  soaring 
beyond  the  aerial  stars,  and  now  the  confines  of  reality  are 
closing  in  on  us  again.  Parmenides,  too,  it  would  appear, 
essayed  a  flight  on  the  wings  of  Icarus  above  the  region 
of  experience  into  the  ethereal  domains  of  pure  being. 
But  his  strength  betrayed  him  halfway  ;  he  sank,  and  fell 
to  the  familiar  plains  of  corporeal  existence.  The  truth  is, 
his  theory  of  Being  prepared  the  way  for  the  kindred  con- 
ceptions of  later  ontologists  without  being  identical  with 
those  theories.  It  was  still  of  the  earth  earthy  ;  it  brings 
us  to  the  forecourt,  but  not  to  the  fane,  of  metaphysics. 
3.  At  this  point  we  shall  do  well  to  revert  to  the  dictum 


SOURCE    OF   THE   DOCTRINE    OF   UNITY.       171 

of  Polybus,  from  which  we  started.  The  philosophic 
physician  recognized  that  the  self-contradictory  statements 
of  the  physicists  lent  force  to  the  scepticism  of  Elea. 
He  would  doubtless  have  had  us  understand  that  those 
who  declared  all  things  to  be  air  denied,  with  but  a  single 
reservation,  the  trustworthiness  of  the  evidence  of  the 
senses  ;  that  the  same  held  good,  with  merely  a  change 
in  the  reservation,  of  those  who  replaced  air  by  water 
or  fire.  Representatives  of  this  doctrine  must  have  played 
into  the  hands  of  thinkers,  if  they  did  not  actually  engender 
them,  who  would  lump  together  the  concordant  negatives 
and  strike  out  the  contradictory  affirmatives  ;  these  would 
cancel  one  another,  like  the  items  on  a  balance-sheet,  and  the 
thinkers  would  merely  have  to  add  the  separate  negations 
of  the  "  physicists  "  to  one  grand  total  negation.*  No  one 
who  follows  out  this  thought  will  cherish  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion as  to  the  source  of  Parmenides'  theory  of  Being.  It 
is  a  kind  of  dividend,  the  residue  or  deposit  of  the  spon- 
taneous disintegration  of  the  doctrine  of  primary  matter. 
The  various  forms  in  which  that  doctrine  had  clothed 
itself  in  turn  were  full  of  implicit  contradictions  which 
presently  disproved  one  another,  and  the  greater  then  was 
the  influence  on  mankind  of  the  common  truth  that  under- 
lay them  when  the  clash  of  opinions  had  cleared  away. 
In  Aristotle's  words,  it  is  "  the  common  doctrine  of  the 
physicists,"  by  whom  he  meant  the  nature-philosophers 
from  Thales  downwards,  that  matter  is  neither  generated 
nor  destroyed.  This  doctrine  was  domiciled  in  the  mind 
of  the  cultivated  Greek  for  the  full  span  of  a  century  ;  and 
considering  how  often  it  changed  its  form,  and  how 
brilliantly  it  survived  those  transformations,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  it  should  ultimately  have  ranked  as  unim- 
peachable, and  have  been  invested  with  well-nigh  axiomatic 
force.  To  quote  Aristotle  once  more,  this  "ancient  and 
undisputed  tenet"  derived  point  and  pith  from  the  reaction 
against  the  doctrine  of  Heraclitus,  and  at  the  same 
time  it  was  extended  by  other  contributions  into  the 
source  of  which  we  have  now  to  inquire. 
*  Cp.  15k.  I.  Ch.  1.  §2. 


172  GREEK    THINKERS. 

We  are  already  acquainted  with  the  first  and  most 
important  of  these  contributions,  Unchangeability  was 
added  to  eternity  as  an  attribute  of  the  universal  being, 
filling  all  space,  in  the  system  of  Parmenides.  It  difi"ered 
from  the  primary  beings  of  Thales,  Anaximander,  Anaxi- 
menes,  and  Heraclitus  in  escaping  the  liability  to  manifold 
modification,  transformation,  and  rehabilitation.  It  is  to-day 
in  nature  and  condition  the  same  as  it  ever  was  and  as  it 
ever  will  be.  Nay,  one  of  Parmenides'  expressions  even 
seems  to  cast  doubt  on  the  passage  of  time  itself;  and, 
seeing  that  nothing  happened  in  time,  that  reality  was 
denied  to  each  and  every  temporal  process,  there  was 
actually  nothing  left  for  the  time-conception  to  denote. 
Parmenides'  power  of  abstraction  reached  its  zenith  at  this 
point,  but  his  mind  did  not  dwell  there  for  long,  and  he 
reverted  with  increased  impressiveness  to  the  unchange- 
ableness  of  his  spatial  being.  He  added  the  condition  of 
qualitative  constancy  to  that  of  quantitative  constancy, 
the  germ  of  which,  at  least,  had  been  contained  in  the 
doctrine  of  primary  matter  from  the  very  beginning,  and 
had  gradually  come  to  clearer  expression  through  the 
influence  of  Anaximenes  in  particular.  The  constitution 
of  matter  was  to  remain  unaltered  at  the  same  time  that 
its  mass  was  to  be  exempt  from  increase  and  diminution. 
This  extension  of  the  doctrine  was  entirely  native  to  its 
spirit,  as  we  hope  to  show  by  a  brief  digression  lying  a 
little  outside  the  chronological  limits  of  our  immediate 
inquiry.  Anaxagoras,  whose  name  will  occupy  us  presently, 
was,  so  far  as  we  know,  in  no  wise  influenced  by  the 
teaching  of  Parmenides.  Still,  the  common  foundations 
of  their  theories  were  surmounted  by  the  same  super- 
structure, and  a  telling  fragment  from  his  work  which 
has  only  recently  been  discovered,  will  best  illustrate  the 
method  by  which  he  and  many  others  arrived  at  this 
extension  of  the  doctrine  of  primary  matter.  "  How,"  he 
asks,  "  should  hair  have  come  from  not-hair  and  flesh  from 
not- flesh  .-*"  and  herein  he  fancies  he  has  disproved  a  sheer 
impossibility.  In  order  to  follow  Anaxagoras,  we  must  re- 
member the  fascination  exercised  by  language  on  the  minds 


THE   POSTULATES   OF  MATTER.  I  73 

even  of  the  deepest  philosophers.  Matter  is  eternal,  and 
out  of  nothing  there  can  never  come  something  ;  this,  as 
we  saw  just  now,  had  already  passed  into  a  commonplace. 
The  transition  thence  to  the  new  axiom  was  easy  and 
imperceptible.  If  a  being  never  comes  from  a  not-being, 
why  should  such-and-such  a  being  ever  come  from  not- 
such-and-such  a  being  .?  Both  postulates  would  be  covered 
by  a  single  formula  :  no  being  can  come  from  a  not-being, 
no  white  from  a  not-white,  and  so  forth.  We  have  already 
had  occasion  to  remark  the  equivocal  use  of  the  word 
"to-be,"  and  its  vacillation  between  the  meaning  of 
"  existence "  and  its  employment  as  a  copula  to  join  the 
subject  to  the  predicate.  But  though  the  new  postulate 
may  and  must  have  arisen  in  this  way,  though  the  asso- 
ciation of  ideas  and  the  ambiguity  of  language  may  have 
helped  to  call  it  in  existence,  yet  its  value  and  significance 
are  not  therefore  condemned.  The  belief  in  causation  was 
likewise  born  in  darkness,  as  the  child  of  the  associative 
faculty,  but  the  obscurity  of  its  origin  would  not  reconcile 
us  to  abandoning  its  lead,  now  that  experience  is  ever 
confirming  the  ample  promise  it  contained,  and  now  that 
the  scion  of  the  inductive  canon  has  been  grafted  on  the 
wild  stock.  Nay,  supposing  the  impossible  were  to 
happen  ;  supposing  the  staff  which  guided  the  steps  of 
our  forebears  on  this  planet  through  myriads  of  years 
were  to  break  asunder  in  our  hand  ;  supposing  water 
were  suddenly  to  cease  to  quench  our  thirst,  and  oxygen 
to  feed  the  process  of  combustion  ;  even  on  this  wild 
hypothesis  we  should  yet  have  had  no  alternative,  we 
should  yet  be  unrepentant  of  having  held  the  belief  that 
the  future  would  resemble  the  past ;  we  should  yet  not 
regret  having  followed  the  only  path  open  to  us  through 
the  maze  and  wilderness  of  natural  phenomena. 

The  case  is  similar,  though  not  quite  the  same,  when  wc 
come  to  the  twofold  postulates  for  the  stability  or  constancy 
of  matter.  Not  quite  the  same,  because  the  world  would 
still  not  necessarily  be  reduced  to  chaos  ;  purposeful  action 
would  not  be  an  impossibility,  provided  there  existed 
phenomenal  processes,  held  together  by  the  bond  of  causal 


174  GREEK   THINKERS. 

uniformities,  even  without  any  permanent  substratum.  But 
no  good  purpose  is  served  by  fantastic  suppositions  of  this 
kind.  Presupposing  the  existence  of  material  bodies,  and 
presupposing  likewise  the  series  of  experiences  on  which, 
as  we  have  seen,  the  doctrine  of  primary  matter 
depended  for  its  source  and  strength,  the  progress  of 
science  was  then  indeed  bound  up  with  the  growing 
belief  in  the  permanence,  quantitatively  and  qualitatively, 
of  the  contents  of  space.  This  was  the  sole  condition 
for  comprehending  the  universe  and  for  inferring  the 
future  from  the  past ;  and  the  demand  for  this  condition 
must  have  powerfully  fostered  the  popularity  of  the  new 
belief,  if  it  did  not  actually  engender  it.  But  there 
are  still,  even  at  this  date,  considerable  distinctions  to  be 
drawn  between  the  two  branches  of  the  doctrine.  We 
believe  to-day  that  nothing  comes  from  nothing,  and 
nothing  passes  into  nothing.  The  opposite  opinion  has 
been  proved  to  be  nugatory  time  after  time,  especially  in 
departments  of  thought  where  modern  science  has  made 
most  progress  ;  we  possess,  too,  the  additional  negative 
proof  that  no  single  trustworthy  instance  has  ever  been 
adduced  to  the  contrary.  Still,  the  statement  that  nothing 
can  come  from  nothing,  and  that  nothing  can  pass  into 
nothing,  is  one  that  we  have  no  right  to  concede  either  to 
Parmenides  himself  or  to  his  countless  anti-empirical  suc- 
cessors. Its  apparent  philosophic  necessity  is  the  merest 
delusion.  The  method  was  to  introduce  new  elements  in 
a  conception — in  this  instance,  the  conception  of  being — 
and  then,  when  they  had  coalesced  among  themselves  and 
with  their  verbal  husk,  to  mistake  the  artificial  product 
for  a  natural,  if  not  for  a  supernatural,  product.  Eternal  per- 
manence was  first  given  the  name  of  "being,"  and  subse- 
quently it  was  clearly  demonstrated  that  such  a  being  could 
neither  arise  nor  decay,  inasmuch  as  in  that  case  it  would 
not  be  a  being  at  all.  It  is  otherwise  with  the  second  of 
these  twin  postulates,  which  is  still  the  almost  exclusive 
property  of  the  strict  scientist  of  to-day.  Its  opposition  to 
the  evidence  of  sense  is  considerably  greater  than  that 
of  the  older  twin.     It  is  far  more  a  guiding  star  for   the 


AXD    .MODERN  SCIENCE.  I  75 

investigators   than   a  goal  which    they   have    reached    and 
maintained    by    means    of    experience.       Briefly    stated, 
as  developed   by  modern   science,   the  postulate  amounts 
to    simply   this :    In    all    natural    phenomena    there    is   a 
central  string    of  occurrences  which  radiates  in  countless 
branches.      That    central   string    is   composed   of  nothing 
but  processes  of  motion,  and  we  may  call  the   objects   in 
which  these  movements  or  changes  of  position  occur  with 
approximate    accuracy   bodies    devoid    of   quality.       The 
branches    or    radii    are    the   sensuous    impressions    which 
produce    the    appearance    of    a    change    of    quality.     We 
may  illustrate  this  theorem    by  a  few  examples.     There 
is   the   wave  of  air,   and   the  impression  of  sound  which 
corresponds   to   it  ;    there    is   the   wave   of  ether,   and   the 
corresponding  impression  of  light  ;  and  there  is  a  chemical 
process  denoting  in  the  ultimate  resort  a  separation,  con- 
junction,   or    shifting    of    particles    of    matter,    with    the 
corresponding    impression    of   taste    or    smell.       We    are 
already  acquainted  with   the  processes  of  motion   in   the 
realm  of  optics  and  acoustics,  corresponding  with  the  quali- 
tative  impressions  which   they  radiate.       When  we   come 
to    chemistry,  however,  our    information   is    by  no  means 
so    complete.       It    was    only   the    other    day   that   a   dis- 
tinguished physiologist  described  as  the  task  of  the  future 
"  Newton  of  chemistry  " — 

"  Tlic  reduction  of  tlie  simplest  chemical  processes  to  terms  of 
mathematical  mechanics.  Chemistry,"  he  continued,  "  will  never 
become  a  science  in  the  highest  sense  of  the  word  till  we  have 
succeeded  in  comprehending  the  energies,  the  velocities,  the  stable 
and  unstable  ecjuilibria  of  particles  as  thoroughly  as  the  motions 
of  the  stars." 

And  the  same  author  declares,  touching  the  beginnings 
of  this  ideal  science,  that  he  is  not  aware  of 

"  any  more  wonderful  production  of  the  mind  of  man  than  structural 
chemistry.  It  was  hardly  more  difficult  to  build  up  the  mechanics 
(;f  the  planetary  system  out  of  the  movements  of  luminous  points 
than  to  develop  step  by  step  such  a  doctrine  as  that  of  the  isomeric 
relations  of  the  carburetted  hydrogens  out  of  tiie  ai)parent  (juality 


176  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and   transformation    of  matter   as    revealed   to   the   five   naked 
senses." 

4.  Our  digression  has  led  us  a  long  way  from 
Parmenides,  but  we  felt  it  due  to  the  curiosity  of  our 
readers  and  to  the  memory  of  the  old  philosopher  to  hint 
at  the  fruits  folded  in  his  doctrine  of  the  unchangeability 
of  matter  like  the  flower  in  the  bud.  Moreover,  it  will 
have  helped  us  to  understand  and  to  appreciate  the  most 
paradoxical  portions  of  his  teaching.  We  perceive  with- 
out overmuch  surprise  that,  granting  the  postulate  or 
assertion  of  material  unchangeability,  with  the  nourish- 
ment it  derived,  by  means  not  unfamiliar  to  us,  from 
correct  conjecture  and  delusive  association,  the  reverse 
side  of  the  theory  was  the  rejection  of  the  evidence  of  the 
senses.  Their  testimony  contradicted  the  postulate,  and 
their  trustworthiness  was  accordingly  denied.  There  is  a 
gap,  however,  in  the  logical  consistency  of  this  argument, 
for  no  other  witness  than  that  of  touch,  or  rather  of 
muscular  resistance,  could  be  conclusively  quoted  for  the 
belief  in  the  existence  of  the  contents  of  space,  and  even 
of  space  itself.  Still,  Parmenides  was  plainly  quite  honest 
in  his  conviction  that  he  had  expelled  from  his  universe 
everything  dependent  on  the  perception  of  the  senses. 
He  erred  in  this  conviction.  He  shared  with  Immanuel 
Kant,  to  mention  but  one  out  of  many,  his  mistake  of  the 
sensuous  origin  of  the  idea  of  space,  but  he  cannot  fairly 
be  blamed  for  it.  It  is  more  astonishing  that,  while  he 
left  space  and  its  corporeal  contents  undisturbed,  he 
dismissed  to  the  limbo  of  appearance  that  movement 
in  space  which  depends  on  the  same  evidence.  The  con- 
tradiction cannot  be  evaded,  and  we  may  perhaps  explain 
it  as  follows.  The  fact  most  incredible  to  Parmenides 
was  the  change  of  quality.  Now,  if  we  remember  how 
much  is  comprised  in  the  conceptions  of  organic  structure, 
growth,  development,  and  decay  ;  if  we  reflect  that  in  wide 
tracts  of  natural  life  these  changes  of  quality  go  hand-in- 
hand  with  movement  in  space,  including  changes  of  volume  ; 
if  we  further  add  that  the  essential  connection  of  both  series 
of  facts  came  to  exalted  expression  in  Heraclitus'  doctrine 


THE    UNIVERSE    OF  PARMENIDES.  1 77 

of  flux,  which  coupled  incessant  changes  of  place  with 
incessant  changes  of  quality,  we  shall  see  that  it  was 
perfectly  natural  tliat  the  sworn  foe  of  that  doctrine  should 
never  have  succeeded  in  dividing  the  halves  so  intimately 
bound  together,  but  should  rather  have  included  them  both 
in  a  common  condemnation.  This  tendency,  so  strong 
in  itself,  was  considerably  strengthened  by  an  outside  in- 
fluence. Parmenides  contested  in  unequivocal  language, 
which  however  has  but  seldom  been  rightly  understood, 
the  existence  of  a  vacuum.  His  argument,  we  may  remark 
in  parenthesis,  is  of  considerable  historical  importance  as 
affording  the  sole  evidence  of  the  presence  of  the  opinion 
at  that  date.  Nor  was  it  present  in  a  mere  rudimentary 
form.  It  had  already  assumed  that  developed  shape  which 
distinguished  and  comprised  the  conceptions  of  continuous 
space  void  of  corporeal  contents,  and  of  interstices 
existing  in  the  bodies  themselves  and  separating  their 
particles  from  one  another.  As  to  the  origin  of  this  theory, 
it  is  merely  a  conjecture,  but  a  safe  one,  that,  designed  as  it 
was  to  explain  the  fact  of  motion,  it  sprang  from  the  circle  of 
the  Pythagoreans,  who  were  unique  at  that  time  in  devoting 
serious  attention  to  the  problems  of  mechanics.  Parmenides 
and  those  who  thought  with  him  would  have  seen  in  the  ac- 
knowledgment of  a  vacuum  a  being  or  existence  of  the  not- 
being.  He  was  accordingly  impelled  to  dispute  the  empti- 
ness of  space,  and  thus  the  fact  of  movement  itself  would 
appear  to  him  inexplicable  and,  therefore,  impossible.  In 
this  way  the  universe  of  Parmenides  rises  visibly  before 
our  eyes,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that 
it  visibly  grows  less  and  less.  AVe  have  watched  the 
disappearance  of  all  differences  m  sensuous  objects  and 
their  various  states  ;  we  have  watched  the  vanishing  of  all 
changes  of  place  from  the  universe  which  was  not  denied 
spatial  extension  and  contents,  and  what,  we  may  ask,  is 
now  left  .M  Nothing  but  a  bare  uniform  homogeneous 
mass,  a'tomp  of  matter  without  form  Of  CShtour, — nothing 
else  would  have  been  left  to  the  mind  of  any  one  but  a 
Greek,  with  his  instjnct  for  form  and  beauty,  who  was 
at  once  a  poet  and  a  disciple  of  Pythagoras.  It  was 
VOL.    I.  N 


178  GREEK   THINKERS, 

solely  due,  in  our  opinion,  to  this  combination  of  qualities 
that  the  infinite  became  finite,  and  the  formless  became 
beautiful  in  the  shape  of  that  "  well-rounded  ball "  with 
which  we  have  already  made  acquaintance.  For  there 
is  no  possible  doubt  that,  consistently  with  the  premises 
of  the  system  of  Parmenides,  we  should  have  expected 
an  infinite  rather  than  a  finite  extension  of  the  spatial 
Being.  Every  boundary  is  a  barrier  ;  and  how,  one  might 
ask,  could  it  come  to  pass  that  the  only  genuine  all- 
inclusive  Being,  suffering  nothing,  not  even  nothingness, 
to  exist  beside  itself,  was  at  once  bounded  and  barred  ? 
Proofs  of  this  kind  would  doubtless  have  been  adduced 
to  fill  up  any  lacuna  in  the  doctrine  of  Parmenides,  and  a 
considerable  degree  of  inner  credibility  would  have 
attached  to  them.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  there  is  no 
such  lacuna  at  all.  Parmenides  tells  us  the  precise 
contrary  in  quite  unequivocal  language  ;  and  though, 
owing  to  the  loss  or  irremediable  mutilation  of  that 
portion  of  his  work,  we  shall  never  know  his  logical 
defence  of  it,  yet  we  can  hazard  a  very  fair  guess  at 
its  psychological  foundation.  We  have  already  antici- 
pated one  part  of  this  inquiry.  Parmenides  was  a  Greek, 
which  is  equivalent  to  saying  that  his  mind  was  imaginative 
and  poetical,  and  was  thus  protected  from  the  logical 
consequences  of  his  premises.  Add  to  this  that  in  the 
Pythagorean  tables  of  contraries  the  unlimited  was  ranged 
with  the  imperfect.  Moreover,  ludicrous  as  it  sounds, 
it  can  hardly  be  denied  that  the  sworn  foe  of  sensuous 
appearances  fell  a  victim  at  this  point  to  a  grave  optical 
'delusion.  For  did  not  in  truth  the  apparent  globe  of 
heaven,  which  is  stretched  as  a  vault  above  our  heads, 
give  rise  to  the  Parmenidean  conception  of  the  globular 
form  of  the  only  true  Being .-'  There  is  yet  another 
question  to  be  considered.  Was  the  universal  Being 
of  Parmenides  merely  matter,  merely  corporeal  and 
extended }  And  did  its  author,  who  valued  rigour  of 
thought  above  all  things,  relegate  thought  and  conscious- 
ness to  the  outer  darkness  of  appearance }  This  seems 
well-nigh  incredible  ;  the   supposition   is  rather  forced  on 


UNIVERSAL   MATTER:    UNIVERSAL   SPIRIT.       1 79 

us  that  for  Parmenides,  as  Spinoza  might  have  said, 
thought  and  extension  were  the  two  attributes  of  one 
substance,  and  the  real  was  at  once  the  thinking  and 
the  extended.  We  cannot  support  this  opinion  by  any 
fragment  of  his  teaching  that  has  come  down  to  us. 
There  are  but  two  sentences  which  could  possibly  be 
interpreted  in  that  sense — "  thinking  and  being  are  the 
same,"  and  "  thinking,  and  that  of  which  it  is  the  thought, 
are  the  same  ; "  but  the  context  in  each  instance  forbids 
it.  They  mean  nothing  more  than  that  the  genuine  thing 
that  is  is  the  only  object  of  thought,  and  that  thinking  can 
never  be  directed  to  the  thing  that  is-not.  But,  in  default 
of  direct  statement  and  unimpeachable  testimony,  the  fact 
may  be  determined  by  internal  evidence.  The  doctrine 
of  Parmenides  supplied  dogmatic  materialism  with  some  of 
its  most  powerful  weapons,  but  the  master  himself  was  never 
a  consistent  materialist.  As  such  he  could  not  have  been 
reputed  a  disciple  of  Xenophanes.  As  such  his  place  would 
have  been  untenable  within  the  Eleatic  school  between 
the  pantheists  Xenophanes  and  Melissus.  As  such  Plato, 
the  bitter  enemy  of  materialists  and  atheists,  would  never 
have  addressed  him  as  "  the  great,"  and  would  never  have 
rendered  him  a  degree  of  homage  which  he  withheld  from 
the  rest  of  his  predecessors  in  philosophy.  And  if  the 
supposition  be  simply  incredible  on  these  grounds,  the  last 
traces  of  hesitation  are  removed  by  the  example  of 
Spinoza,  which  we  have  quoted  already,  and  the  parallelism 
in  the  Vedanta  philosophers  of  India.  The  material  Being 
of  Parmenides  was  incontestably  a  spiritual  Being  as 
well.     It  is  universal  matter  and  universal  spirit  at  once, 

but  the  rPntt^*'  ''«  ci-pnip  hprnngp  ^apnblf  <^f  "Q  expansinp^ 
and  tViPir  spirit  pnwerles.^  because  r.npnhle  of  no  action, 

5.  Parmenides  built  a  lofty  system  of  philosophy,  but 
it  strikes  cold  on  the  senses  with  a  dismal  feeling  of 
monotony.  One  almost  wonders  if  the  architect  entirely 
escaped  that  impression.  Hardly,  it  would  seem  ;  for  he 
did  not  rest  satisfied  with  the  formulation  of  his  "Words 
of  Truth,"  but  he  followed  them  up — on  phenomenal  lines, 
as  we  should  now  say —by  his  "Words  of  Opinion."    Many 


l8o  GREEK   THINKERS. 

previous  workers  in  this  field  have  been  unable  to  contain 
their  astonishment  that  Parmenides  should  have  taken  this 
step ;  to  our  own  thinking,  it  would  have  been  more 
remarkable  if  he  had  omitted  it.  He  was  a  man  deeply 
immersed  in  the  science  of  his  age  ;  his  mind  was  excep- 
tionally inventive  and  exceptionally  agile,  and  he  was  not 
likely  to  content  himself  with  the  reiterated  repetition  of 
a  few  meagre  principles,  important  enough  in  their  con- 
sequences, but  mostly  of  a  negative  tendency.  He  found 
himself  prevailed  on,  or,  as  Aristotle  put  it,  "impelled  to 
trace — or  account  for — phenomena."  And  in  this  there  was 
nothing  inconsistent ;  for,  though  he  rejected  sense-percep- 
tion as  illusory,  yet  it  had  not  therefore  vanished  from  the 
world.  Trees  still  grew  green  before  his  eyes,  the  brook 
still  whispered  in  his  ears,  flowers  were  still  fragrant,  and 
fruits  still  palatable  to  his  taste.  And  if  this  held  good  in 
his  instance,  it  held  good  of  the  rest  of  mankind,  yesterday 
as  to-day,  there  as  here,  whenever  and  wherever  they 
existed.  Nor  was  he  in  any  wise  precluded  from  trans- 
gressing these  limits  of  time  and  space.  He  was  free  to 
speak  of  the  rise  of  the  human  race,  the  origin  of  the 
earth,  or  the  mutations  of  the  universe,  for  he  merely 
implied  that  "such-and-such  phenomena  would  have  pre- 
sented themselves  to  me  and  to  those  like  me,  if  we  had 
been  alive  then  and  there."  Though  Kant's  "  General 
History  and  Theory  of  the  Heavens"  actually  preceded 
his  "  Critique  of  Pure  Reason,"  yet  their  order  might  as 
well  have  been  reversed :  the  sage  of  Konigsberg's  belief 
that  only  the  "thing  in  itself"  possessed  objective  reality 
need  no  more  have  prevented  his  derivation  of  the  solar 
system  from  a  primeval  nebula  than  the  sage  of  Elea's 
ontology  need  have  stood  in  the  way  of  his  cosmogony. 
This  was  the  point  of  view  which  Parmenides  maintained 
in  the  composition  of  Part  H.  of  his  didactic  poem  ;  or  rather, 
he  would  have  maintained  it  with  complete  consciousness 
if  the  distinctions  of  "subjective  and  objective,"  "abso- 
lute and  relative,"  and  the  like,  had  been  clearly  and 
logically  grasped  by  him,  and  had  been  fixed,  with  their 
corresponding    terminology,    as    part  of   the   furniture   of 


THE   "WORDS   OF  OPINION."  l8l 

his  mind.  But  this,  as  we  know,  was  not  the  case.  His 
own  expressions  betray  him,  chiefly  the  Greek  word 
Sosa,  which  we  have  to  render  by  "opinion,"  but  which 
really  conveys  several  finer  shades  of  meaning.  It  signifies 
the  sense-perception — the  thing  that  appears  to  men  ;  and 
it  signifies  equally  the  idea,  or  view,  or  opinion — the  thing 
that  appears  to  men  to  be  true.  Thus  Parmenides  was 
precluded,  by  the  habits  of  thought  and  speech  prevailing 
in  his  times,  from  treating  and  approaching  with  any  degree 
of  confidence  what  we  designate  subjective  or  relative  truth. 
What  he  offered  were  "  the  Opinions  of  Mortals  ; "  and  this 
description  did  not  merely  cover  other  people's  opinions. 
It  included  his  own  as  well,  as  far  as  they  were  not  confined 
to  the  unassailable  ground  of  an  apparent  philosophic 
necessity.  He  laid  them  before  his  reader  with  the  specific 
warning  not  to  yield  them  unquestioning  credence ;  he 
spoke  of  the  "  misleading  structure "  of  his  theory,  and 
called  its  exposition  "  plausible "  or  acceptable  in  contrast 
with  the  "  convincing  force  of  truth "  which  belongs  to 
ideal  reason.  As  he  wrote  in  his  dithyrambic  introduction, 
both  parts  of  his  didactic  poem  were  put  in  his  mouth  by  a 
goddess.  The  second  half  contains  some  of  his  most  original 
dogmas,  which  were  taken  in  earnest  and  widely  esteemed 
in  antiquity,  and  cannot  therefore  have  been  intended  to 
act  merely  as  a  foil  for  the  brilliance  of  his  "  Doctrine  of 
Truth."  Doubtless  he  was  also  glad  of  the  opportunity  of 
displaying  the  amount  of  his  learning  in  this  form,  for  he 
straightly  wrote  that  the  reader  of  his  work  would  be 
"  second  to  no  mortal  in  knowledge  "  or  insight.  Further, 
besides  satisfying  the  desire  of  his  own  heart,  he  enjoyed 
the  welcome  chance  of  finding  himself  in  no  too  great 
opposition  to  the  religious  traditions  and  sentiment  of  his  age. 
He  adopted  the  same  method  in  this  instance  as  in  that  of 
his  doctrine  of  phenomena,  ranging  himself,  that  is  to  say, 
with  the  popular  belief  modified  by  Orphic  influences,  and 
introducing  deities  such  as  the  "  all-controlling  goddess  " 
enthroned  in  the  centre  of  the  universe,  and  "  Eros  the 
first-created."  Meantime  it  is  doubtful  how  far  such  god- 
heads  were   mere    personifications    of   natural    forces    and 


152  GREEK    THINKERS. 

factors.  We  shall  hardly  be  wrong  if  we  presume  that 
the  mind  of  the  philosophic  poet  was  torn  by  as  deep  a 
misgiving  as  that  which  quite  recently  gave  us  Fechner's 
"  Day  and  Night  Views "  by  the  side  of  his  "  Atomic 
Theory." 

The  cosmogony  of  Parmenides  starts  from  the  assump- 
tion of  two  primary  matters.  They  bear  a  striking  resem- 
blance to  the  first  differentiation  of  the  primary  Being  of 
Anaximander,  with  the  thin,  the  bright,  and  the  light  on 
the  one  side,  and  the  thick,  the  dark,  the  heavy  on  the 
other.  Parmenides  conceived  the  origin  of  the  world  as 
inexplicable,  except  by  the  co-operation  of  both  factors, 
which  were  sometimes  called  light  and  darkness.  He 
explicitly  condemns  the  assumption  of  a  single  primary 
matter  and  the  rejection  of  the  second — a  condemnation 
which  was  intended  to  apply  to  the  theories  of  Thales, 
Anaximenes,  and  Heraclitus,  but  which  fell  chiefly  on  the 
last-named  of  the  three,  who  was  the  principal  opponent 
of  the  Eleatic  philosopher.  In  verses  which  have  not 
come  down  to  us,  Parmenides  described  the  creation  of 
"  the  earth,  the  sun,  the  moon  with  its  borrowed  light,  the 
common  ether,  the  heavenly  milk,  the  outermost  Olympus," 
already  known  to  us,  "  and  the  warm  force  of  the  stars." 
We  can  credit  him  with  a  knowledge  of  the  globular  shape 
of  the  earth  without  any  hesitation.  He  is  said  to  have 
been  the  first  to  give  literary  form  to  the  theory,  and  to 
follow  the  older  Pythagoreans  in  not  disputing  the  central 
position  of  the  earth-ball  in  the  universe.  Moreover,  he 
developed  the  doctrine  of  the  different  zones  ;  and,  misled 
apparently  by  false  analogies  drawn  from  the  heavenly 
zones,  which  he  transferred  to  the  central  earth,  he  consider- 
ably exaggerated  the  size  of  that  strip  of  the  earth  which 
is  rendered  uninhabitable  by  its  heat.  The  different 
regions  of  the  heaven  were  known  to  him  as  "wreaths." 
He  represented  them  as  enclosing  one  another  in  con- 
centric circles  composed  partly  of  "unmixed  fire,"  and 
partly  of  fire  mixed  with  the  dark  or  earthy  matter.  As 
a  natural  philosopher  he  followed  both  Anaximander  and 
Pythagoras,  and  we  have  already  shown  cause  to  believe 


PARMENIDES'    PHYSIOLOGY.  I  8 


o 


that  he  was  influenced  by  the  "  table  of  contraries."  That 
influence  becomes  clearer  when  we  pass  to  Parmenides' 
theory  of  generation.  He  referred  the  difference  of  sex 
in  the  embyro  to  its  local  position,  so  that  the  contrast  of 
male  and  female  corresponded  with  that  of  right  and  left. 
In  the  same  theory  we  mark  the  tendency,  so  characteristic 
of  a  Pythagorean  or  mathematical  training,  to  derive  dis- 
tinctions of  quality  from  differences  of  quantity.  He 
followed  Alcmaeon  in  using  the  hypothetical  proportions  of 
the  male  and  female  generative  elements  to  account  for 
idiosyncrasies  of  character,  and  above  all  for  the  peculiar 
sexual  inclinations  of  the  male  and  female  products. 
In  precisely  the  same  way  he  referred  the  intellectual 
differences  of  individuals  and  their  mental  condition  with 
its  temporary  variations  to  the  greater  or  smaller  share  of 
the  two  primary  matters  which  their  bodies  contained. 
Empedocles,  as  we  shall  presently  see,  repeated  this  mode 
of  thought,  which  led  him  to  an  important  and  genuinely 
scientific  modification  of  the  doctrine  of  elements.  These 
two  philosophers,  Parmenides  and  Empedocles,  display 
other  points  of  contact,  to  which  we  shall  return  later  on. 
At  present  we  have  merely  to  pass  in  review  the  younger 
representatives  of  the  Eleatic  school  before  we  say  a  last 
word  on  the  work  of  Parmenides  as  a  whole. 


184  GREEK    THINKERS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   DISCIPLES   OF   PARMENIDES. 

I.  Melissus  is  the  enfant  terrible  of  metaphysics.  The 
childish  clumsiness  of  his  false  conclusions  betrays  many 
a  secret  which  the  finer  art  of  his  successors  was  careful 
to  preserve.  In  this  way  we  may  explain  the  striking 
change  in  their  attitude  towards  him  which  constantly 
surprises  us.  At  one  time  they  shun  his  intimacy  and 
deny  their  uncouth  predecessor  much  in  the  same  way  as 
a  man's  family  will  turn  his  back  on  *him  in  order  to 
avoid  disgrace.  At  another  time  they  are  delighted  to 
find  that  their  own  views  were  shared  by  so  early  a 
representative  of  their  school ;  they  pat  their  awkward 
champion  encouragingly  on  the  back,  and  exert  themselves 
to  explain  away  the  worst  blemishes  that  sully  the  service- 
able philosophy  of  Melissus.  Thus  the  thinker  is  alternately 
called  clumsy  and  clever,  crude  and  creditable,  and  these 
epithets  succeed  one  another  in  pictorial  succession  from 
the  times  of  Aristotle  till  the  present  day. 

We  are  already  acquainted  with  the  starting-point  of 
the  doctrine  of  Melissus,  and,  further,  with  its  goal — so  far, 
at  least,  as  it  coincided  with  that  of  Parmenides.  So  far 
as  we  are  aware,  they  diverged  from  each  other  at  three 
places.  Melissus  kept  extension  as  an  attribute  of  being, 
but  purged  it  of  everything  that  was  grossly  material. 
He  added  infinity  in  space  to  infinity  in  time,  and  finally 
he  ascribed  an  emotional  life  to  being — a  life  that  was 
innocent  of  "  grief  and  pain,"  and  which  we  must  there- 
fore   call    a    condition    of    undisturbed    bliss.     Thus    we 


MELISSUS   OF  SAMOS.  1 85 

3ce  that  considerable  progress  had  been  made  in  the 
process  of  abstraction  inaugurated  by  Parmenides.  So 
successful  has  been  the  decomposition  of  the  material 
picture  of  the  universe,  that  its  features  are  liable  to 
vanish  altogether  and  to  make  room  for  a  blissful  being. 
In  this  respect  Melissus  must  be  numbered  with  the 
mystics,  but  in  one  particular,  at  least,  he  was  dis- 
tinguished from  the  great  majority  of  them,  whether  in 
the  East  or  in  the  West.  He  endeavoured,  with  what 
success  he  might,  to  support  his  conclusions  on  logical 
grounds,  and  not  on  mere  inward  light  or  intuition.  It  will 
be  well  to  gain  acquaintance  with  his  logical  processes, 
though  it  seems  hardly  possible  to  give  a  fair  and  simple 
account  of  them  without  submitting  them  to  a  critical 
examination.  The  first  words  which  Melissus  placed  at 
the  head  of  his  work  were  the  following :  "  If  nothing  is, 
how  should  we  come  to  speak  of  something  as  being.''"  We 
are  grateful  to  him  for  having  admitted  the  possibility  that 
the  starting-point  of  his  discussion  could  be  illusory,  and 
for  having  attempted  to  clear  it  up  by  an  argument. 
Nor  shall  we  linger  to  ask  if  the  argument  was  tenable, 
or  if  one  might  not  have  replied  that  the  conception  of 
being,  in  the  strict  sense  in  which  alone  it  can  bear  the 
consequences  which  are  here  tacked  on  to  it,  may  possibly 
have  rested  on  an  illusion  of  the  human  mind,  which 
Melissus  himself  believed  to  be  liable  to  so  many  illu- 
sions. But  without  pausing  at  this  point,  we  may  continue 
our  quotation  from  Melissus : 

"  What  is,"  he  went  on,  "  was  from  everlasting  and  will  be  to 
everlasting ;  for,  if  it  had  become,  before  it  became  it  must  have 
been  nothing;  and  if  it  was  nothing,  then  we  ought  to  say  that  some- 
thing can  never  arise  out  of  nothing.  But  if  it  has  not  become, 
and  yet  it  is,  then  it  was  from  everlasting  and  will  be  to  everlast- 
ing. It  possesses  no  beginning  and  no  end,  but  it  is  infmite. 
For  if  it  had  become,  it  would  possess  a  beginning  (for  it  would 
have  begun,  if  it  had  become) ;  and  an  end  (for  it  would  at  some 
time  have  ended  if  it  had  become).  But  if  it  has  neither  begun 
nor  ended,  and  always  was,  and  always  shall  be,  then  it 
possesses  no  beginning  and  no  end.     Furthermore,  it  is  impossible 


I  86  GREEK    THINKERS. 

tliat  anything  be  everlasting  which  does  not  comprise  everything 
in  itself." 

To  avoid  the  possibility  of  a  mistake,  we  must  quote 
at  this  point  two  more  brief  fragments : 

"  As  Being  is  for  ever,  it  must  also  be  infinite  for  ever  in  size." 
"  That  which  possesses  beginning  and  end,  is  neither  everlasting 
nor  infinite." 

Every  one  must  perceive  the  desperate  leap  from 
temporal  to  spatial  infinity  which  Melissus  hazarded  at 
this  point  Aristotle  remarked  on  it  justly  and  emphati- 
cally enough,  but  the  most  surprising  and  memorable 
feature  in  the  argument  is  the  following.  Whatever 
really  requires  demonstration  is  taken  as  self-evident, 
or  at  the  best  the  proof  is  left  to  be  read  between  the 
lines ;  the  really  tautological  and  therefore  self-evident 
proposition  is  clothed  in  the  forms  of  a  wide-spun  and 
tedious  argumentation.  As  an  example  of  the  first 
class  we  may  quote  the  thesis,  "that  which  has 
arisen  must  decay,"  to  which  the  parenthetic  little 
sentence,  "for  if  it  had  become  it  would  at  some  time 
have  ended,"  is  added  by  way  of  assertion  rather  than  of 
proof.  Moreover,  the  proposition,  which  is  neither  more 
nor  less  than  a  fully  intelligible  generalization  from  actual 
experience,  could  not  have  been  proved,  in  the  strict  sense 
of  that  term.  It  is  precisely  the  same  with  another 
thesis,  similarly  derived  from  the  facts  of  experience : 
"Only  that  which  has  nothing  outside  of  it  whereby  it 
could  be  injured  or  destroyed  can  be  everlasting."  This 
is  a  thought  which  must  have  been  present  to  the  mind 
of  Melissus,  since  it  is  the  sole  possible  justification  of 
his  statement  that  the  universe  alone  is  eternal.  Not 
a  jot  more  proof  is  adduced  in  support  of  the  thesis  on 
which  the  whole  argument  is  based,  that  "something  can 
never  come  from  nothing."  Here  the  metaphysician  was 
borrowing  from  the  physicists ;  he  took  from  them  the 
chief  principle  of  their  doctrine  of  primary  matter,  which 
had  first  been  based  on  actual  evidence,  which  had  been 
confirmed  by  the  progress  of  observation,  but  which  could 


HIS  RATIOCINATION.  I  87 

never  have  been  deduced  from  any  necessity  of  thought. 
Melissus,  on  the  contrary,  used  the  strict  forms  of  logical 
demonstration,  drawing  consequences  and  conclusions 
where  nothing  was  proved  or  concluded,  but  where  the 
statement  actually  rested  on  a  mere  verbal  change :  "  that 
which  begins  has  a  beginning  ;  that  which  ends  has  an 
end  ;  that  which  neither  begins  nor  ends  has  no  begin- 
ning and  no  end  ;  that  which  has  no  beginning  and  no 
end  is  infinite."  It  would  be  erroneous  to  conclude  that 
this  apparent  series  of  demonstration  was  entirely  devoid  of 
a  progress  in  thought,  but  it  was  due  to  the  help  of  equivo- 
cation or  of  the  ambiguity  of  language,  which  imperceptibly 
replaced  the  temporal  beginning  and  end  with  the  corre- 
sponding spatial  conceptions,  that  it  moved  forward  at  all 
and  broke  the  spell  of  tautology.  On  the  whole  wc  may 
call  it  a  model  and  masterpiece  of  a  priori  reasoning  which 
renounces  every  appeal  to  experience.  By  this  act  of 
renunciation  the  philosopher  starts  without  any  provision 
for  his  journey.  We  can  hardly  wonder,  accordingly, 
that  he  should  pick  up  whatever  he  encounters  on  his  way 
— substantial  products  of  experience  no  less  than  threads 
of  fantastic  dreams — concealing  his  sleight  of  hand  by  a 
glib  equivocation  which  clothes  with  fresh  and  ever- 
rich  meaning  the  old  husks  of  language.  And  by  the 
time  he  reaches  his  goal,  our  eyes  are  dazzled  with  the 
borrowed  gaudy  colours  in  which  his  proud  a  priori  truths 
conceal  their  contraband  origin,  or  we  fail  to  mark  the 
tacit  presumptions  and  slippery  parentheses  by  which  the 
concealment  is  effected. 

The  belief  in  the  spatial  infinity  of  being  having  thus 
been  obtained,  its  unity  was  deduced  from  it.  "  For  if," 
wrote  Melissus,  "  there  were  two  beings,  then  being  would 
be  bounded  by  another  being."  In  other  words,  the  thing 
which  is  unlimited  in  space  can  neither  be  bounded  nor 
limited  by  another  being  in  .space.  The  principle  is  as 
unimj)eachable  as  it  is  unproductive,  nor  was  it  made 
productive  till  the  apparatus  of  equivocation  was  set  to 
work  again,  and  the  quantitative  conception  was  changed 
into   a  qualitative   one.     Unity    was   transformed    without 


1 88  GREEK   THINKERS. 

delay  into  uniformity  and  homogeneity.  And  these  ideas 
were  employed  to  draw  conclusions  touching  the  character 
of  being,  which  were  just  as  appropriate  as  if  one  said  that 
a  die  ceases  to  be  one  as  soon  as  all  its  six  sides  cease  to 
display  the  same  colour.  But  let  us  listen  to  Melissus  in 
his  own  defence : 

"Thus,"  he  declared,  "being  is  everlasting,  and  infinite, 
and  one,  and  wholly  homogeneous.  It  is  incapable  of  decay  or 
increase,  nor  can  it  suffer  a  cosmic  change.  It  is  equally  insensible 
to  pain  or  grief,  for  if  it  could  experience  any  of  these,  it  would 
no  longer  be  one." 

These  principles  were  defended  by  their  author  in 
detail,  but  we  shall  merely  have  occasion  to  draw  attention 
to  a  few  points.  In  the  first  place,  we  may  note  the 
argument  which  led  to  the  denial  of  every  change.  Melissus 
maintained  that  a  change  of  being,  since  it  prevents  its 
remaining  homogeneous,  would  destroy  what  had  been,  and 
would  bring  what  had  not  been  into  existence.  So  the 
impossibility  of  rise  and  decay  was  not  confined  to  the 
existence  of  being,  but  was  extended  to  its  nature,  and 
thus  it  came  about  that  the  attribute  of  homogeneity  was 
extended  from  the  simultaneous  to  the  successive  states  of 
being.  Our  previous  inquiry  has  prepared  us  for  this 
transition  from  the  "  What "  to  the  "  How,"  but  the 
argument  by  which  the  loss  of  former  qualities  and  the 
acquisition  of  fresh  ones  are  made  coincident  with  the  decay 
of  what  had  been  and  the  rise  of  what  had  not  been  is  a 
new  feature  in  the  reasoning.  The  following  reflection  is 
calculated  to  excite  our  surprise  :  "  If  the  Universe  were  to 
change  in  ten  thousand  years  by  as  much  as  a  hair's  breadth, 
it  would  be  destroyed  in  the  course  of  all  time."  We  are 
delighted  here  at  the  wide  perspective  which  is  in  such 
striking  contrast  to  the  narrow  horizon  of  older  philo- 
sophers with  their  childish  cosmogonic  and  mythological 
speculations.  It  is  greatly  to  the  credit  of  Melissus  that 
he  should  have  learnt  to  cast  up  minute  processes  to  a 
total  of  incalculable  effects — a  lesson  which  was  chiefly  due 
to  the  geological  researches  of  Xenophanes.    But  creditable 


NEITHER  PAIN  NOR   GRIEF.  1 89 

as  this  was  to  the  elasticity  of  his  mind,  it  was  bound 
to  injure  the  logical  accuracy  of  his  thought :  inferences 
drawn  from  empirical  facts  had  no  business  in  his  system, 
which  was  openly  at  war  with  experience.  We  are 
confronted  with  the  same  employment  of  the  results  of 
experience  and  with  a  similar  illicit  generalization  there- 
from in  the  argument  intended  to  confirm  the  exemption 
of  being  from  pain  and  grief : 

"  It  is  sensitive  to  no  pain,"  wrote  Melissus,  "  for  it  is 
impossible  that  it  could  be  wholly  filled  with  pain,  seeing  that 
a  thing  filled  with  pain  cannot  exist  for  ever.  But  the 
thing  that  suffers  is  not  of  the  same  nature  as  the  thing  that  is 
sound,  wherefore,  if  it  suffered  (partial)  pain,  it  would  no  more 
be  homogeneous.  Further,  it  would  suffer  pain  only  by  some 
loss  or  accretion,  and  would  then — for  this  reason  too — not  be 
homogeneous.  Further,  it  is  impossible  that  a  sound  thing 
should  feel  pain,  for  then  would  the  sound  thing  that  is  be 
destroyed,  and  the  thing  that  is-not  would  arise.  And  in  respect 
to  grief  there  is  the  same  proof  as  in  respect  to  pain." 

The  reader  is  already  familiar  with  some  of  the 
fallacies  contained  in  this  exposition,  and  they  call  for 
no  special  mention.  There  is  a  striking  instance  of  the 
naive  employment  of  experience  in  the  argument  from  the 
empiric  fact  that  pain  is  an  accompaniment  of  inward 
disturbance,  and  that  the  inward  disturbance  is  frequently 
at  least  the  precursor  of  dissolution.  It  was  an  observation 
transferred  from  the  animal  organism  to  the  conception  of 
being,  which  resembled  it  in  well-nigh  no  respect.  Our 
philosopher  appears  to  have  forgotten  one  of  the  commonest 
causes  of  physical  pain,  which  lies  in  functional  disturb- 
ances. His  eye  was  fixed  on  its  most  obvious  causes,  in 
the  loss  of  a  limb  or  in  the  formation  of  malignant  growths. 
We  are  quite  unable  to  determine  how  he  would  have 
modified  his  argument  in  order  to  prove  the  second  part  of 
his  contention,  which  denied  all  suffering  of  the  spirit  or 
soul.  It  may  almost  be  conjectured  that  he  shrank  from 
the  difficulties  of  the  task.  Melissus'  campaign  against  the 
possibility   of  the    movement    of    being    was   fought   with 


IQO  GREEK    THINKERS. 

the  well-known  weapons  of  Parmenides.  There  could  be  no 
movement — thus  much  the  physicists  had  shown— without 
a  vacuum  ;  emptiness  is  nothing,  and  nothingness  cannot 
exist.  Further,  the  admitted  homogeneity  of  Being  was 
employed  to  deny  it  any  different  degrees  of  density. 

Here  we  reach  the  last  and  the  most  difficult  portion  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  philosopher  of  Samos.     He  granted,  as 
we  have  been  told  with  wearisome  iteration,  the  spatial 
extension  of  being  ;  how  did  this  agree  with  his  contention 
that  it  possessed   no  corporeity — that,   in  his  own  words, 
"  since  it  is  one,  it  cannot  have  a  body ;  for  if  it  had  thick- 
ness, it  would  have  parts,  and  then  it  would  no  longer  be 
one  "  .-*     It  is  true  that  Parmenides  had  expressly  stated  of 
his   primary  being  that   it  was  "not    divisible."     But  we 
are  by  no  means  obliged  to  credit  him  with  the  absurdity 
of  giving  it  a  globular  shape  and  denying  it  the  possession 
of  parts.      We   shall   doubtless  be  correct  in  taking   his 
negation  to  imply,  not  the  impossibility  of  ideal  partition, 
but  of  actual  separation  into  parts.     The  indivisibility  of 
being    in   this   sense   is    only  a   special  case  of  its  general 
incapacity  to  move  as  maintained  by  Parmenides.     In  the 
instance   of  Melissus,  this  loophole   of   escape    is    closed 
against  us,  since  he  expressly  denies  not  the  separability, 
but  the  existence   of  parts.     No   one  will  seriously  con- 
tend that   in   denying    the    thickness    of   being    Melissus 
was  merely  denying  its  third  dimension,  and  declaring  it  a 
being  in  two  dimensions  or  a  mere  plane.      Such  a  con- 
ception would  be  foreign  to  the  whole  of  antiquity,  and  it 
further  contradicts  the  actual  statement  of  Melissus  that 
all  space  was  filled  by  his  primary  being.     We  are  reduced, 
then,  to  the  belief  that  Melissus  did  not  identify  the  filling 
of  space  with  corporeity,  but  was  anxious  to  free  his  omni- 
present and  completely  blissful  universal  being  from  every 
trace  of  gross  materialism.    The  conception  is  too  indistinct 
to  admit  of  precise  formulation,  but  it  does  not  lack  parallels 
even   of  the  most   recent   date,  among  which  will  be  re- 
membered the  newly  revived  identification  of  space  with 
the  Deity.     It  would  have  been  more  comprehensible,  or 
at  least  more  consistent,  if  Melissus  had  used  the  arguments 


ZENO    OF  ELBA.  19I 

we  have  cited  to  relieve  his  being  of  the  categories  of 
space  and  time  altogether.  For  absolute  unity  is  incom- 
patible with  all  coexistence  and  succession.  Numerical 
ideas,  including  the  idea  of  unity,  are  known  to  us  purely 
as  relative  ;  the  tree  is  singular  in  relation  to  its  fellows  in 
the  forest,  but  plural  in  relation  to  its  branches ;  the 
branches  are  singular  to  one  another,  but  plural  to  their 
leaves,  and  so  forth.  Now,  if  we  agree  to  forget  this,  and 
to  take  our  conception  of  unity  in  earnest,  we  shall  be 
entering  a  path  which  will  lead  us  to  no  minor  goal  than 
the  complete  "  emptification,"  not  merely  of  material  exist- 
ence, but  of  spiritual  existence  as  well,  inasmuch  as  our 
states  of  consciousness  describe  a  temporal  succession.  At 
this  point  unity,  dispossessed  of  all  its  contents,  passes 
into  naked  nothingness.  Later,  we  shall  have  to  consider 
the  history  of  a  revolution  of  this  kind,  by  which  nihilism 
or  the  doctrine  of  nothingness  proceeded  from  the  Eleatic 
ontology  or  doctrine  of  being. 

2.  We  feel  that  in  parting  from  Melissus  we  have  not 
been  over-lenient  towards  him,  but,  blameworthy  though 
he  may  have  been  in  much  of  his  methods  and  results,  no 
one  can  desire  to  deprive  him  of  one  title  to  fame.  The 
gallant  admiral  was  a  thinker  of  undiminished  fearlessness. 
He  followed  up  his  line  of  thought  with  entire  indifference 
to  the  reception,  whether  favourable  or  otherwise,  which 
might  be  awaiting  him  at  the  end.  Grave  fallacies  must 
be  laid  to  his  charge,  but  there  is  not  the  least  ground  to 
impute  to  him  any  deliberate  imposture  or  any  deception 
save  the  deception  of  himself  This  brave  and  honest 
philosophic  courage  was  the  best  inheritance  bequeathed 
by  Xenophanes  to  the  school,  and  it  likewise  characterized 
the  great  champion  of  criticism  with  whom  we  have 
now  to  occupy  ourselves.  The  champion  was  Zcno  of 
Elea.  He  was  a  tall  man  of  distinguished  presence,  who 
enjoyed  the  intimacy  of  Parmenides,  and  shared  his  interest 
in  political  life,  though  his  junior  by  five  and  twenty  years. 
He  died  the  death  of  a  martyr  owing  to  the  part  he  took 
in  a  conspiracy  aimed  at  the  overthrow  of  a  usurper,  and 
the  unexampled  endurance  with  which  he  bore  his  torments 


192  GREEK   THINKERS. 

has  been  a  theme  of  admiration  to  this  day.  He  was  a 
born  fighter  and  a  born  master  of  dialectic,  and  an  early 
call  to  self-defence  provided  a  use  for  that  talent. 
Parmenides'  doctrine  of  unity  had  set  a  peal  of  laughter 
ringing  through  the  whole  of  Greece,  and  this  outburst  of 
mirth  and  ridicule,  as  noisy  as  that  which  less  than  two 
centuries  ago  greeted  Bishop  Berkeley's  denial  of  matter, 
summoned  Zeno  to  the  lists.  He  was  burning  to  retaliate, 
and  he  promptly  seized  his  opportunity.  He  paid  the 
scoffers,  as  Plato  tells  us,  "with  their  own  coin  in  full,  and 
added  something  in  the  bargain." 

He  challenged  them  somewhat  in  this  wise  :  "  You  laugh 
at  us  because  we  reject  all  movement  as  absurd  and  im- 
possible ;  you  rail  at  us  for  fools  because  we  rail  at  the 
senses  for  liars  ;  because  we  see  in  the  plurality  of  objects 
nothing  but  idle  delusion,  therefore  you  throw  stones  at 
us.  See  to  it  that  you  are  not  yourselves  living  in  a  glass 
house ! "  And  then  he  began  to  empty  the  quiver  of  his 
polemic,  teeming  with  pointed  barbs.  Like  a  row  of 
pearls,  he  strung  the  silken  thread  of  his  dialectic  with 
the  chain  of  subtle  arguments  which  have  puzzled  the 
heads  of  generations  of  readers,  and  have  proved  insur- 
mountable obstacles  to  more  than  one  powerful  intellect, 
of  whom  we  need  but  mention  Peter  Bayle, 

We  take  a  grain  of  millet  and  let  it  fall  to  the  ground. 
It  sinks  noiselessly  to  the  earth.  The  same  thing  happens 
with  a  second  and  a  third,  and  with  every  one  in  turn  of 
the  ten  thousand  grains  which  the  bushel  in  front  of  us 
contained.  Now  we  collect  the  grains  and  pour  them  back 
into  the  bushel  and  turn  it  over.  The  fall  of  the  grains  is 
accompanied  this  time  by  a  great  noise,  and  Zeno  asked 
how  it  could  happen  that  the  combination  of  ten  thousand 
noiseless  processes  should  result  in  one  full  of  noise.  He 
deemed  it  inexplicable  that  the  sum  of  ten  thousand 
noughts,  instead  of  being  nought,  should  make  a  sensible, 
and  a  very  clearly  sensible,  magnitude,  Zeno's  difficulty 
is  our  own  difficulty  too,  nor  can  it  be  solved  till  we  have 
looked  a  little  closer  at  the  nature  of  this  puzzling  process. 
This  deeper  insight  was  not  possible  in  the  age  when  Zeno 


THE   ''GRAIN  OF  MILLETr  1 93 

lived,   and  his  paradox   or   "  apory "    possesses  the  great 
merit  of  having  brought  the  impossibility  home  to  every 
thinking  person.      It  gave  a  voice  to  the  cry  for  a  psy- 
chology of  sense-perception.     There  was  no  way  out  of 
the  difficulty  as  long  as  the  sensible  qualities  were  regarded 
as  the  pure  objective  possessions  of  the  objects,  but  a  way 
is   found    at   the   moment   that   we   take   hold  of  the  act 
of  perception    and   recognize   the  essentially  complicated 
character  of  the   process   which   seems  so  simple.      Such 
complication  is  always  present,  and  its  ramifications  are  at 
times  very  many.    And,  likewise,  we  must  first  admit  the 
possibility  that  here,  as  elsewhere,  an  expenditure  of  force 
without  palpable  effect  need  not  therefore  be  lost,  nor  its 
value  equivalent  to  Jiil.     A  single  instance  will  help  us  to 
comprehend  both  truths.     Take  a  child's  hand  pulling  at 
a   bell-rope.     It   sets   the  bell  in   no   perceptible  motion. 
Now  add  a  few  more  children  to  pull,  and  their  combined 
effort  will  succeed  in  swinging  the  bell  with  its  clapper. 
With  twice  or  three  times  the  number  of  little  hands  they 
may  be  able  to  set  the  clapper  beating  on  the  rim  of  the 
bell,  but  the  stroke  may  still  perhaps  not  be  strong  enough, 
and  the  concussion  of  air  too  weak  to  produce  the  physical 
changes  in   our  auditory  apparatus  indispensable  for  the 
effect  of  sound.    And  an  exertion  of  force  sufficient  for  that 
purpose  may  still  be  inadequate  to  the  amount  requisite 
for  the  physiological  process  which  we  call  a  stimulation  of 
the  auditory  nerve.     Further,  such  stimulation  may  ensue, 
but  its  degree  of  intensity  may  be  inferior  to  that  required 
to  produce  the  decisive  process  in  the  brain  depending  on 
the  nerve-stimulus.     And,  finally,  this  process  too  may  be 
effected,  and  yet  its  strength  may  be  too  little  to  raise  the 
corresponding  psychical   impression  over  the  threshold  of 
consciousness.      Our  own  psychical  condition  at  the  time 
must  also  be  taken  in  account.     If  our  senses  are  subdued 
by  sleep,  or  if  our  attention  is  concentrated  elsewhere,  the 
resistance  to  be  overcome  will  be  greater  than  under  other 
and  more  favourable  conditions.     The  failure  of  the  ulti- 
mate end  is  no  proof  whatever  that  any  one  of  the  mediate 
processes,  whose  number  we  have  certainly  underestimated, 
VOL.    I.  () 


194  GREEK    THINKERS. 

did  less  than  its  own  share  in  contributing  to  the  final 
success.  Even  the  first  and  apparently  ineffectual  effort 
of  a  single  child's  hand  performed  its  due  part  in  the  whole  ; 
it  assisted  in  lessening  the  resistance  which  would  only  be 
fully  overpowered  when  the  number  of  hands  had  been 
multiplied.  But  the  demand  that  each  unit  of  force  exerted 
at  the  beginning  of  the  process  should  produce  a  hundredth 
part  of  the  success  finally  attained  by  a  hundred  such  units 
is  wholly  unjustified  in  such  cases.  A  cog-wheel  may 
measure  one  inch  or  ninety-nine  inches  in  diameter,  but 
it  will  not  be  able  to  catch  the  next  cog-wheel  till  its 
diameter  has  been  increased  to  a  hundred  inches  if  that 
be  the  distance  to  be  covered.  Then,  and  then  only,  will 
the  whole  series  of  consequences  ensue  which  depend  on 
the  revolution  of  the  second  wheel,  and  the  relations  of  the 
second  to  the  third,  of  the  third  to  the  fourth,  and  so  on, 
are  determined  by  the  same  conditions.  The  ultimate 
working  of  the  machine  depends  for  its  success  or  failure 
on  the  presence  or  absence  of  the  hundredth  inch. 
Zeno's  paradox  which  we  have  discussed  so  minutely 
gave  an  impulse  to  speculations  of  this  kind,  and  may 
claim  its  share  in  the  progress  of  the  doctrine  of  sense- 
perception.  It  was  about  this  time  that  sense-perception 
was  recognized,  not  as  a  mere  reflection  of  objective 
qualities,  but  as  the  result  of  the  influence  of  an  object  on 
a  subject  derived  through  a  long  chain  of  causal  processes. 
And  the  light  kindled  at  Zeno's  torch  began  to  spread  in 
all  directions. 

3.  We  reach  now  the  famous  paradoxes  respecting 
movement  in  space.  Zeno  began  by  submitting  the  con- 
ception of  space  itself  to  a  not  very  searching  criticism. 
He  argued  that  if  every  being,  every  real  thing  or  object, 
is  discovered  in  space,  space  itself,  unless  it  lacks  reality, 
must  be  in  space — in  a  second  space,  that  is  to  ?ay — and 
this  secondary  space  must  be  in  a  tertiary  space,  and  so 
on  ad  infinitum.  We  are  accordingly  left  with  the  alter- 
native of  saying  ditto  to  this  absurd  reasoning,  or  of  denying 
the  reality  of  space.  It  would  be  paying  Zeno  an  unde- 
served compliment  to  refer  here  to  the  criticism  which  Kant 


''ACHILLES  AND    THE    TORTOISE:'  1 95 

and  other  modern  philosophers  have  brought  to  bear  on  the 
conception  of  space.  Theword  roTro^',  which  was  used  in  Greek, 
might  equally  well  be  translated  "place"  without  the  least 
injury  to  the  argument.  Every  object  lies  in  a  place,  and  that 
place,  if  it  is  something  real,  must  be  situated  in  a  second 
place,  and  so  forth.  Moreover,  the  paradox  which  Zeno 
applied  to  the  juxtaposition  of  objects  might  have  been 
extended  to  their  existence.  Every  real  or  existent  thing 
possesses  existence  ;  such  existence,  unless  it  be  chimerical, 
must  possess  a  second  existence,  and  so  forth.  In  short, 
we  are  merely  dealing  with  the  deep-rooted  tendency  of 
language  arising  from  the  use  of  substantives  as  the  names 
of  abstractions  of  every  kind — of  forces,  qualities,  conditions, 
and  relations — to  measure  every  such  conception  by  the 
standard  of  concrete  things.  A  conception  of  that  kind  had 
to  pass  the  thing-test,  as  it  were,  or  it  failed  to  qualify 
for  existence.  According  as  it  passed  or  failed,  or,  rather, 
according  as  its  existence  was  regarded  as  indispensable  or 
otherwise,  it  would  be  relegated  to  the  realm  of  fancy,  or, 
far  more  frequently,  it  would  be  conceived  as  a  kind  of 
thing,  as  the  spectre  of  an  object.  The  value  of  the 
paradox  consists  in  setting  clearly  before  our  eyes  this 
fatal  tendency  of  the  human  mind,  to  which  we  may  trace 
the  worst  and  most  obstinate  errors  and  delusions,  and 
the  absurdities  which  it  engendered  serve  to  warn  us  from 
its  influence. 

When  we  reach  the  puzzles  to  which  Zeno  himself 
gave  expression  in  respect  to  the  problems  of  motion,  we  are 
on  far  less  primitive  ground.  Every  one  knows  "Achilles 
and  the  Tortoise."  The  type  of  swiftness  and  one  of  the 
slowest  of  creatures  agree  to  run  a  race,  and,  strangely 
enough,  we  are  hardly  able  to  understand  how  the  first  is 
to  overtake  and  pass  the  second.  Achilles,  according  to 
the  terms  of  the  competition,  gives  the  tortoise  a  start  and 
runs  ten  times  as  fast.  Taking  the  start  to  be  a  metre  in 
length,  as  soon  as  Achilles  has  completed  the  metre,  the 
tortoise  is  a  decimetre  in  advance  ;  when  Achilles  has  run 
that  decimetre,  the  tortoise  has  crawled  on  another 
centimetre  ;  by  the  time  he  has  covered  that  centimetre, 


196  GREEK    THINKERS. 

his  opponent  is  a  millimetre  further  on,  and  so  on  ad 
infinitum.  Thus  we  see  the  two  coming  nearer  and  nearer 
to  each  other,  but  we  cannot  perceive  how  the  minimum 
interval  which  finally  divides  them  is  ever  to  be  completely 
bridged  over,  and  accordingly  the  conclusion  is  that 
Achilles  will  never  overtake  the  tortoise.  The  tyro  at 
mathematics  is  greatly  astonished  to  learn  that  this  ex- 
position, apart  from  its  conclusion,  is  wholly  vouched  for 
by  mathematical  experts.  The  swift-footed  son  of  Thetis 
will  actually  never  reach  his  clumsy  adversary  at  any  of 
the  points  here  mentioned  or  alluded  to,  not  at  the  tenth, 
nor  at  the  hundredth,  nor  at  the  thousandth,  ten-thousandth, 
hundred-thousandth,  nor  millionth  of  the  second  metre 
of  its  creeping  progress.  But  simple  arithmetic  will  show 
us  that  Achilles  will  reach  the  tortoise  at  the  moment  it 
has  completed  the  ninth  part  of  this  journey,  for  he  runs 
ten-ninths  of  a  metre,  or  one  metre  and  a  ninth,  in  the 
time  that  the  tortoise  crawls  one-ninth,  and  the  whole 
endiess  series  yy-  -r  yy-o-  -v  1  (ttto'  1"  tttct^o"  >  to" o'o'oit  "t" 
TinrJo  o"o  +  •  •  .  does  not  exceed  the  amount  of  \.  Let  us 
put  the  problem  and  its  solution  in  a  more  universal  form. 
If  the  two  velocities  stand  in  the  proportion  of  i  :  n,  the 
overtaking    will    not    occur    at    any   point    in    the    series 

1.1,1,1,1,1  ,  ,  .     .   r    • 

-  -}-  0  H — 5  +  4  H — 5  +  -a  .  .  .  ;  but  this  infinite  series 
n       n^       n'^       n^       n°       nr 

is  included  in  the  finite  quantity  ~^_~ "     So  far  all  is  in 

order.  A  quantity  may  be  divisible  into  infinite  parts,  but 
it  does  not  therefore  cease  to  be  a  finite  quantity.  Infinite 
divisibility  and  infinite  quantity  are  two  very  different  con- 
ceptions, though  the  danger  of  confusing  them  be  great. 
Further,  it  is  easy  to  account  for  the  apparent  permanence 
of  the  distance  which  divides  the  two  competitors  in  our 
mental  sight.  Our  capacity  to  realize  minute  fractions  of 
space  is  strictly  limited.  We  soon  reach  a  barrier  which 
imagination  cannot  transgress.  We  may  go  on  diminish- 
ing by  words  the  smallest  unit  of  space  which  we  are  able  to 
conceive,  we  may  go  on  talking  of  the  hundred-thousandth 
or  millionth  part  of  a  metre  or  foot,  but  the  same  smallest 


DIFFICULTIES   OF   THE   PROBLEM.  K)-] 

unit  of  space  which  our  imagination  can  grasp  is  in 
reality  ever  before  us.  It  emerges  again  and  again  after 
each  attempt  at  division,  and  it  defies  our  endeavour  to 
bring  it  nearer  to  nothingness.  But  though  we  may  admit 
all  this,  it  is  still  legitimate  to  ask  if  we  have  completely 
and  finally  solved  the  difficulty  so  clearly  perceived  and 
so  brilliantly  expounded  by  Zeno.  The  great  master  of 
dialectic  has  helped  us  to  answer  this  question  by  recasting 
his  paradox  in  a  simpler  and  less  insinuating  form.  How, 
he  asks,  can  we  ever  traverse  a  portion  of  space  }  For 
before  we  attain  the  end  we  must  first  have  completed 
half  our  journey,  and  then  a  half  of  the  remaining  half,  a 
quarter  of  the  whole,  that  is  to  say  ;  and  then  a  half  of  the 
last  quarter,  or  an  eighth  of  the  whole  ;  and  then  a  sixteenth, 
a  thirty-second,  a  sixty-fourth  part,  and  so  on  ad  infinitum. 
The  answer  generally  given  is  that,  in  order  to  traverse  an 
infinitely  divisible  space,  the  time  requisite  for  that  purpose 
must  likewise  be  infinitely  divisible  ;  and,  as  far  as  it  goes, 
this  is  correct.  But  it  does  not  go  very  far,  for  the  crux 
of  this  problem  too  lies  in  the  relation  of  an  infinite  series 
to  a  finite  quantity.  It  is  true  that  mathematicians  assure 
us  and  prove  that  the  series  reached  here  by  division  by 
two  no  more  exceeds  a  finite  quantity  than  the  former 
series  in  tens.  Just  as  yV  +  i^o  4-  toVit  +.  •  .  do  not 
exceed  J,  so  ^  +  i  +  J  +  •  •  •  clo  not  exceed  i.  And 
this  presents  no  great  difficulty.  But  what  startles  us  is 
their  further  assurance,  which  alone  is  valid  for  our  purpose, 
that  each  of  these  infinite  series  actually  reaches  the  re- 
spective finite  quantities  of  J  and  i.  We  cross  at  one  step 
a  certain  length  of  space,  and  experience  no  shock  if  we 
are  told  that  that  length  is  divisible  in  infinite  parts.  But 
now,  working  backwards,  let  us  take  the  synthetic  instead 
of  the  analytic  road,  and  endeavour  to  build  up  the  finite 
quantity  out  of  the  given  infinitude  of  parts.  Will  there 
not  always  be  a  remainder,  a  fragmentary  part,  however 
small,  wanting  to  complete  the  structure  ?  Is  it  possible 
to  exhaust  the  inexhaustible  ?  If  we  take  counsel  with 
the  mathematicians,  we  shall  be  advised  to  neglect  the 
infinitesimally  small  or  vanishing  quantity  at  the  end  of  a 


198  GREEK   THINKERS. 

series,  just  as  they  proceed  in  converting  a  recurring 
decimal  fraction  to  a  vulgar  fraction.  Such  artifices  are 
quite  legitimate  and  of  eminent  service  to  the  purposes 
of  natural  science,  but  they  seem  to  contain  the  confession 
that  it  is  impracticable  to  deal  in  full  earnest  with  the 
conception  of  infinity,  and  this,  we  believe,  rather  than  the 
empirical  conception  of  motion,  was  the  true  objective  of 
the  paradoxes  we  have  discussed,  however  contrary  it 
may  have  been  to  the  intention  of  their  author. 

It  is  with  a  positive  sense  of  relief  that  we  turn  from 
the  perplexities  of  thought  with  which  we  have  just  been 
exercised  to  the  two  last  paradoxes  of  Zeno  concerning 
the  problem  of  motion.  The  third  paradox  has  not  come 
down  to  us  in  a  very  distinct  form,  but  it  may  be  stated 
approximately  as  follows  :  An  arrow  is  sped  from  its  bow  ; 
it  measures  one  foot  in  length,  and  traverses  ten  feet  a 
second  ;  is  it  not  accordingly  legitimate  to  say  that  the 
dart  occupies  a  space  equal  to  its  length  in  every  tenth 
part  of  that  period  of  time  .''  Now,  to  occupy  a  space 
and  to  rest  are  the  same  ;  and  the  paradox  consists  in 
asking  how  ten  states  of  rest  can  result  in  one  state  of 
motion.  The  question  can  be  put  in  a  yet  more  captious 
form :  Does  an  object  move  in  the  space  in  which  it  is,  or 
in  the  space  in  which  it  is  not  .^  Neither  alternative  is 
defensible,  for  to  be  in  a  space  and  to  occupy  it  are  equi- 
valent to  resting  there,  whereas  in  the  space  in  which  an 
object  is  not,  it  can  neither  act  nor  be  acted  on.  This 
is  the  paradox,  and  its  solution  is  simple  enough.  We 
have  only  to  reply  that  the  premise  is  as  false  as  it  is 
insidious.  A  body  in  continuous  motion  does  not  occupy 
a  space  even  in  the  smallest  conceivable  fraction  of  time. 
On  the  contrary,  it  is  always  engaged  in  passing  from 
one  portion  of  space  to  another.  But  the  paradox  is 
valuable  inasmuch  as  it  compels  us  to  form  a  clear  idea 
of  continuousness  and  to  hold  fast  by  it.  The  difficulty 
arose  from  the  vagueness  of  the  outline  of  this  idea ;  from 
the  confusion,  that  is  to  say,  between  the  notion  of  steadi- 
ness or  continuousness  and  that  of  discontinuous  units — a 
contrast  which  we  shall  presently   meet  in  another  shape. 


A    PROBLEM    OF    VELOCITY.  1 99 

The  fourth  and  last  of  the  paradoxes  of  motion  relates 
to  a  problem  of  velocity.  We  shall  perhaps  be  able  to 
explain  it  best  if  we  modernize  the  ancient  "  arena "  in 
the  following  fashion.  Three  railway  trains  of  equal 
length  are  on  three  parallel  pairs  of  rails.  The  first  train 
(A)  is  in  motion  ;  the  second  (B)  is  at  rest  ;  the  third  (C) 
is  moving  at  the  same  rate  as  A,  but  in  the  opposite 
direction.  Now,  it  is  clear  to  every  one  that  A  will  reach 
the  end  of  B  in  twice  the  time  that  it  requires  to  reach 
the  end  of  C,  though  C  and  B  are  of  equal  length. 
Hence,  if  we  are  asked  to  state  the  velocity  with  which  A 
moved,  we  must  give  different  answers  according  as  we 
measure  it  by  the  standard  of  C,  which  was  moving  at  an 
equal  rate,  or  by  that  of  B,  which  was  at  rest.  The  objec- 
tion will  probably  be  raised  that  the  last-named  standard 
is  the  normal  one.  We  use  it  in  the  considerable  majority 
of  cases,  and  we  are  compelled  to  use  it  in  all  cases  where 
the  thing  to  be  determined  is  the  expenditure  of  force 
underlying  the  velocity.  But  this  objection  carried  no 
weight  with  Zeno.  He  would  have  replied  that  truth  and 
error  are  not  determined  by  a  plebiscite  of  instances.  It  is 
enough,  he  would  have  said,  to  be  able  to  point  to  examples 
such  as  the  one  given  above,  in  which  it  may  correctly  be' 
contended  that  the  moving  body  completed  the  same 
distance  in  the  whole  time  and  half  the  time  at  once.  If 
the  standard  of  movement  in  time  is  relative,  how,  he 
would  have  asked,  can  movement  itself  be  something 
absolute  and  objective,  and  thus  be  something  real  ? 

4.  The  plurality  of  objects  guaranteed  by  the  evidence 
of  the  senses  was  supposed  to  be  annulled  by  the  follow- 
ing double  argument.  It  was  represented  as  leading  to 
two  contradictory  conclusions,  under  which  the  many 
objects  would  be  at  once  without  magnitude  and  infinitely 
great.  They  would  be  without  magnitude  because  there 
would  not  be  a  plurality  of  objects  unless  each  of  the 
objects  was  a  unit.  But  a  veritable  unit  cannot  be  divisible, 
whereas  an  object  remains  divisible  as  long  as  it  possesses 
parts.  Now,  it  possesses  parts  when  it  is  extended,  so 
that   if  it   is  to  be  a  veritable   unit   it   must   be   without 


200  GREEK   THINKERS. 

extension  and  consequently  without  magnitude.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  many  objects  would  at  the  same  time  be 
infinitely  great,  for  each  object,  if  existence  is  to  be  ascribed 
to  it  at  all,  must  possess  a  magnitude.  Its  possession  of 
a  magnitude  implies  that  it  consists  of  parts  with  a  mag- 
nitude belonging  to  each  part.  Further,  if  those  parts  are 
to  be  different,  they  must  be  separate  from  one  another, 
and  they  could  only  be  separate  from  one  another  if 
other  parts  were  situated  between  them.  This  process 
goes  on  ad  infinitwn,  for  the  intermediary  parts  would 
always  have  to  be  separated  from  one  another  by  another 
set  of  parts  endowed  with  a  certain  magnitude.  Thus 
every  body  would  comprise  an  endless  number  of  parts 
each  of  which  would  possess  a  certain  magnitude  ;  in  other 
words,  it  would  be  infinitely  great. 

The  premises  of  this  reasoning  are  not  quite  as 
arbitrary  as  they  appear  at  first  sight.  For  one  thing,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  the  conceptions  of  unity  and 
plurality  are  not  used  here  in  the  relative  sense  in  which 
we  commonly  meet  them.  We  have  already  proved  to 
our  satisfaction  that  a  unity  which  is  always  and  everywhere 
to  remain  a  unity  can  actually  possess  no  parts,  and  that  it 
is,  accordingly,  not  to  be  found  either  in  the  world  of  co- 
existence or  of  succession.  A  unity  of  this  kind  is  absolute, 
not  relative,  and  it  is  therefore  quite  true  to  say  that  it 
is  incompatible  with  the  idea  of  spatial  extension  and 
magnitude.  Considered  in  this  light,  the  first  part  of 
the  argument  is  really  irrefutable.  And  this  character  of 
absoluteness  belongs  equally  to  the  premise  of  plurality 
which  underlies  the  second  part  of  the  argument.  If 
two  parts  of  a  body  are  never  and  nowhere  to  be  regarded 
as  a  unity,  there  must  at  least  be  a  sharp  line  of  demarca- 
tion, and  the  reservation  implied  by  our  "at  least"  goes 
to  show  that  we  consider  the  present  argument  as  less 
powerful  than  its  counterpart.  The  line  or  boundary  must 
be  real ;  accordingly,  if  an  object  without  magnitude  is  to 
be  accounted  unreal,  this  boundary  in  question  must  possess 
magnitude  or  bodily  extension.  But  an  extended  object 
consists    once   more  of   parts,  and  therefore   the   line   of 


UNITY  AND   PLURALITY.  20I 

demarcation  is  characterized  by  precisely  the  same  con- 
ditions as  have  just  been  proved  of  the  parts  of  the  body 
which  it  holds  asunder.  And  this  reasoning  may  be 
pressed  ad  infinihivi.  Each  argument  may  be  summarized 
by  a  single  convenient  formula  as  follows  : — 

If  each  of  the  objects  is  really  one,  it  must  therefore 
be  indivisible  ;  that  is  to  say,  it  must  be  unextended  and 
without  magnitude. 

Secondly,  If  objects  are  multiple,  then  each  pair 
of  them  must  be  separated  by  an  intercalary  object 
possessing  extension  and  therefore  parts,  which  in  their 
turn  must  be  similarly  separated,  and  so  on  ad  in- 
finitum. 

The  double  argument  thus  stated  does  not  appear  to 
us  to  be  entirely  valueless  for  the  progress  of  knowledge. 
Unity  and  plurality  are  not  absolute  conceptions,  but 
purely  relative.  If  I  have  an  apple  before  me,  it  will 
depend  entirely  on  my  point  of  view,  on  the  purpose  by 
which  I  am  directed,  whether  I  regard  it  as  a  unit,  as  a  part 
of  a  collection  of  apples,  or  as  a  plurality,  as  the  aggregate 
of  its  constituent  parts.  Unity  and  plurality, cannot  be 
treated  as  absolutes.  We  cannot  talk  of  units  which  in 
no  circumstances  could  become  plural  objects,  nor  yet 
of  plural  objects  which  in  no  circumstances  could  become 
units,  without  assuming  premises  as  wild  and  grotesque 
in  character  as  those  which  we  have  just  followed  to 
their  suicidal  conclusions. 

We  stumble  here  against  the  roots  of  many  other 
actual  and  possible  paradoxes,  for  our  inquiry  first  brings 
to  light  the  essential  opposition  between  unity  and 
plurality,  and  their  common  hostility  to  the  conception  of 
reality.  A  real  object,  according  to  the  tenets  of  this  school, 
is  an  object  which  possesses  magnitude,  which,  accordingly, 
is  extended,  divisible,  and  plural.  But  a  plural  object 
requires  preliminary  units  of  which  it  is  the  aggregate. 
Such  units,  however,  as  true  and  absolute  units,  must  be 
indivisible  and  unextended.  They  must  be  conceived 
to  be  without  ma<^nitude,  and  therefore  without  reality. 
Thus  we  see  that  the  conception  of  being  or  reality  was 


202  GREEK    THINKERS. 

full  of  flaws,  and  was  burdened  with  contradictions  from 
the  start.  Every  real  object  was  an  aggregate  composed 
of  units,  but  the  units  were  devoid  of  reality,  and  the 
Colossus  of  the  Real  rested  on  the  clay  feet  of  the  Unreal. 
Nor  should  we  be  attended  by  better  fortune  if  we  made 
the  endeavour  to  liberate  reality  from  its  delusive  founda- 
tion and  to  set  it  on  a  firmer  basis.  It  would  still  crumble 
to  pieces  by  internal  decay.  For  if  the  plural  object 
remains  an  aggregate,  and  the  parts  of  which  it  must  be 
composed  in  order  to  possess  extension,  magnitude,  and 
consequently  reality,  are  not  reducible  to  units,  it  will  lack 
all  tenable  or  untenable  foundation  ;  it  will  be  infinitely 
divisible  ;  it  will  fall  to  pieces  more  and  more  till  it  is 
completely  annihilated.  Thus  we  may  take  it  as  proved 
that  neither  together  nor  apart  are  the  notions  of  "  unity  " 
and  "plurality"  suitable  vehicles  for  the  notion  of  reality 
or  being.  The  "  one  "  is  unreal  at  the  start  ;  the  "  many  " 
becomes  unreal  whether  it  is  left  to  rot  on  its  own  founda- 
tion or  whether  it  is  rebuilt  on  the  sands  of  the  "one" 
till  they  go  to  pieces  together. 

We  should  wrong  the  memory  of  Zeno  if  we  looked 
on  the  reflections  which  we  have  freely  rendered  here  as 
a  mere  puppet-show  of  idle  abstractions.  They  contain  a 
criticism  of  the  conception  of  matter,  partly  prevalent  to 
this  day,  as  serious  in  intention  as  it  was  successful  in 
execution.  The  infinite  divisibility  alleged  of  matter  was 
threatening  it  with  extinction  when  the  thought  arose, 
probably  in  the  Pythagorean  circle,  that  this  divisibility 
would  not  transgress  a  limit  which,  though  distant,  was 
definite.  Certain  minute  nuclei,  which  might  be  com- 
pared with  pin-points  or  motes  in  the  sun,  would  set  a 
limit  to  its  further  division.  It  is  Zeno's  indisputable 
merit  to  have  pointed  out  the  contradictions  implied  in 
this  view.  Either  those  nuclei  possessed  magnitude  and 
extension,  in  which  case  they  would  be  subject  to  the  law 
of  divisibility,  or  they  did  not  possess  those  attributes,  in 
which  case  they  could  not  have  been  employed  to  build 
up  the  structure  of  the  material  world.  For  one  object 
without   maijnitude  added   to  another  does   not    make   a 


DOCTRINE    OF  MATTER   CRITICISED.  203 

magnitude  ;  we  may  pile  up  a  mountain  of  nothings,  and 
the  result  will  still  be  nothing. 

But  here  our  agreement  must  pause,  and  even  within 
these  limits  it  requires  a  considerable  reservation.  The 
authors  of  the  theory  which  Zeno  vanquished  so  valiantly 
worked  with  a  contradictory  premise,  but  they  were  not  on 
the  wrong  road.  We  shall  presently  become  acquainted 
with  a  doctrine  of  matter  which  followed  the  same  path 
without  falling  into  the  same  contradiction  ;  it  is  the  path 
which  has  led  the  natural  science  of  recent  times  from  one 
triumph  to  another.  The  point  is  that,  though  a  whole  must 
possess  parts  if  it  is  to  fall  asunder,  yet  its  possession  of 
parts  need  not  imply  their  disintegration  in  the  near,  the 
remote,  or  even  the  remotest  future.  There  is  undoubtedly 
a  connection  in  thought  between  ideal  divisibility  and 
actual  separability,  but  they  need  not  therefore  be  con- 
nected in  fact.  The  assumption  of  such  material  nuclei 
not  devoid  of  extension  in  space,  but  actually  indestructible, 
may  or  may  not  be  a  final  truth  ;  at  least  it  contains  a  con- 
siderable element  of  truth,  or,  more  strictly  speaking,  its 
logical  consequences  agree  so  well  with  actual  phenomena 
that  they  become  an  engine  of  unparalleled  force  in  the 
hands  of  physical  research.  Except  for  the  blasphemy  of 
the  thought,  we  are  almost  tempted  to  exclaim  that 
perhaps  the  Creator  of  the  world  was  not  quite  as  clever  as 
Zeno.  At  any  rate.  His  sublime  wisdom  did  not  require  to 
be  as  much  on  the  alert  for  victories  of  logic  and  logo- 
machy as  the  wit  of  the  pugnacious  Eleatic.  More 
seriously  stated,  Zeno's  rigour  of  thought  is  not  always 
of  true  weight  and  measure.  His  arguments  frequently 
contain  traces  of  two  points  of  view,  each  of  which  is 
defensible  on  its  merits,  but  is  completely  incompatible 
with  the  other.  Zeno  would  play  off  the  one  against  the 
other ;  he  would  couple  the  conception  of  the  finite  with 
that  of  the  infinite,  of  continuous  space  with  discreet  units 
of  time,  of  continuous  time  with  discreet  units  of  space. 

We  return  at  last  to  our  guiding  principle,  which  is  the 
historical  point  of  view.  Did  Zeno  remain  till  the  end, 
as  he  started  at  the  beginning  of  his  task,  a  faithful  acolyte 


204  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  Parmenides  ?  The  answer  is  frequently  given  in  the 
affirmative,  but  it  does  not  appear  to  be  tenable.  True, 
he  wielded  a  stout  club  to  punish  the  anti-Eleatics,  but 
we  should  hesitate  to  say  that  the  Eleatic  philosophers 
enjoyed  the  fruits  of  their  victory.  We  should  even 
venture  to  doubt  if  the  "continuous  one"  of  Parmenides 
— his  globular  universal  Being — emerged  unscathed  from 
the  fray.  The  artifices  of  interpretation  would  have  to  be  put 
to  quite  illegitimate  uses  in  order  to  make  the  assertion. 
No  ;  an  impartial  witness  will  admit  that  the  fundamental 
conceptions  of  the  Eleatics,  unity,  extension,  and  reality 
itself,  were  shaken  or,  rather,  crushed  by  this  criticism.  In 
the  immediate  circle  of  the  school  and  its  adherents  no 
doubt  was  entertained  on  that  point.  Plato  makes  Zeno  say 
that  his  work  was  the  production  of  his  untamed  youth 
when  the  blood  ran  hot  in  his  veins ;  it  was  purloined 
without  his  knowledge,  and  published  without  his  consent. 
Readers  of  Plato  will  know  how  to  interpret  these  remarks. 
His  admiration  of  the  "great"  Parmenides  made  him  keenly 
alive  to  the  fact  that  Zeno,  the  disciple  of  Parmenides, 
wielded  a  two-edged  weapon  with  only  too  much  dexterity. 
The  "  inventor  of  dialectic  "  was  invested  with  a  halo,  but 
its  rays  were  not  equally  to  illumine  all  portions  of  his 
work.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  his  genius  took  the  bit  between 
its  teeth,  and  Zeno  was  carried  far  beyond  the  goal  he 
originally  had  in  view.  As  an  ontologist,  he  entered  the 
field  as  an  ardent  believer  in  the  doctrine  of  unity ;  he 
left  it  as  a  sceptic,  or,  rather,  as  a  nihilist.  We  have  re- 
peatedly had  occasion  to  refer  to  the  spontaneous  decom- 
position of  the  theory  of  primary  matter  ;  in  Zeno's  lifework 
we  are  presented  with  the  spontaneous  decomposition  of 
the  Eleatic  theory  of  being. 

It  is  far  cry  from  Xenophanes  to  Zeno,  yet  the  begin- 
ning and  the  end  stand  in  close  relationship.  At  the 
one  extreme  the  soluble  character  of  the  great  problems 
of  life  is  disputed  on  principle ;  *  at  the  other,  the  knife  is 
ruthlessly  applied  to  existing  attempts  at  their  solution. 
The  history  of  the  school  is  the  history  of  the  gradual 
*   Fz^t'Bk.  II.  Ch.  I.  §3/;/. 


KNOWLEDGE   AND   BELIEF.  205 

growth  and  enfranchisement  of  the  spirit  of  criticism. 
Hercules  begins  by  strangling  two  serpents  in  his  cradle. 
It  is  fair  to  expect  some  further  feats  of  strength  when 
the  infant  reaches  maturity.  Criticism  first  laid  sacrilegious 
hands  on  the  brilliant  tissue  of  mythology.  Next,  it  rent 
the  brilliant  tissue  of  the  sensible  world,  till  finally  it 
exposed  the  inherent  contradictions  in  that  part  of  the  con- 
ception of  the  world  which  had  eluded  its  previous  attacks. 
The  development  followed  a  straight  line.  The  three  chief 
representatives  of  the  Eleatic  school  form  a  group  of  that 
class  of  intellectual  firebrands,  whose  business  it  is  to  rouse 
mankind  from  indolence  of  thought  and  the  disposition  to 
dogmatic  slumber.  These  pioneers  of  criticism  were  as 
confident  as  they  were  bold.  It  was  their  firm  conviction 
that  the  designs  which  they  conceived  as  reasonable  must 
be  stamped  on  the  face  of  the  universe.  But  as  excess  of 
fire  and  a  sensibility  impatient  of  control  are  not  inexcus- 
able in  youth,  so  the  overweening  self-dependence  which 
marked  the  early  years  of  scientific  thought  may  fairly 
claim  the  same  privilege.  Thus  much  we  concede.  It  is 
rather  the  middle  period  of  the  movement  which  causes 
misgivings  in  the  spectator.  The  results  attained  are 
neither  complete  nor  coherent.  An  unwarrantable  quantity 
of  dogmatism  is  left  over,  which  is  not  merely  a  deposit 
from  former  conceptions  of  the  universe,  but  is  the  less 
acceptable,  inasmuch  as  it  is  due  to  an  arbitrary  process 
of  transformation  and  malformation,  as  unsatisfactory  to 
the  natural  instinct  as  to  the  trained  intelligence.  The 
unfavourable  impression  is  relieved  if  we  take  a  com- 
prehensive view,  and  join  the  baseless  affirmation  with 
the  negation  that  succeeds  to  it.  For  it  is  this  con- 
secutive progress  of  criticism  which  gives  the  Eleatic  move- 
ment its  true  value  and  historical  significance.  It  was 
the  first  considerable  trial  of  strength,  the  first  school  in 
which  Western  philosophy  was  tempered  and  steeled  till  it 
became  conscious  of  its  powers. 

A  proof  of  this  progress  is  the  clear  distinction,  hinted 
at  in  Xenophancs  but  now  defined  by  Parmenidcs,  be- 
tween Knowledge  and  Belief — Reason  and  Opinion.     The 


206  GREEK    THINKERS. 

distinction  gains  in  importance  if  we  recall  the  hopeless 
confusion  of  these  elements  in  the  contemporary  teaching 
of  the  Pythagorean  School.  We  are  standing  here  at  the 
parting  of  the  currents.  Two  streams  flow  from  one  fount, 
and  take  different  directions.  Nor  are  their  waters 
destined  to  meet  again  till  they  mingle  in  the  flood  of 
decadence. 

"  Double-headed "  was  the  reproach  of  the  Eleatic, 
levelled  at  the  disciples  of  the  Ephesian,  The  epithet 
recoils  on  himself.  For,  hke  locaste,  his  doctrine  is  preg- 
nant with  twin  brothers  at  strife.  Consistent  Materialism 
and  consistent  Spiritualism  are  diametrically  opposed  to 
each  other  in  the  realm  of  metaphysics.  Yet  they  grew  on 
one  stem.  They  trace  their  descent  in  common  from  that 
strict  conception  of  Substance  which,  though  it  did  not 
originate  at  Elea,  was  most  clearly  extracted — not  to  say 
isolated — by  the  Eleatics  from  the  doctrines  of  Primary 
Matter.  Abstraction  having  ventured  thus  far  securely, 
its  next  step  brought  the  inevitable  bias,  first  towards 
Anti-Materialism,  and  then  towards  Spiritualism  proper. 
The  evidence  of  the  muscular  sense — the  sense  of  resist- 
ance— was  sent  the  way  of  the  rest,  and  nothing  was  left 
save  the  bare  conception  of  Substance,  the  complexus, 
that  is  to  say,  of  the  attributes  of  eternal  persistence  and 
eternal  immutability.  Once  more  there  was  a  parting  of 
the  ways.  New  metaphysical  entities  had  been  created 
which  might  or  might  not  be  treated  as  the  vehicles  of 
force  and  consciousness.  The  choice  was  determined  in 
each  instance  by  the  requirements  of  the  individual  thinker, 
and  on  occasions,  as  we  shall  see  in  Plato,  it  varied  with  the 
taste  of  the  chooser.  Eleaticism  worked  here  by  indirect 
rather  than  by  direct  means.  For  the  precedent  set  by 
Melissus  found  no  successor  worth  mentioning.  Except 
in  the  Megaric  School,  the  least  important  of  the  Socratics, 
we  hear  no  echo  of  his  efforts.  If  we  had  to  discover  an 
exact  parallel  to  the  blissful  Primary  Being  of  Melissus, 
with  its  total  lack  of  initiative  and  influence,  we  should 
have  to  turn  to  India.  In  the  lore  of  the  Vedanta  philo- 
sophers the  world  is  similarly  represented  as  mere  delusive 


INFLUENCE    OF  ELEATICISM.  207 

appearance  with  a  central  Being  whose  sole  attributes  are  : 
Essence,  Thought,  and  Bliss  {sat,  cit,  and  dnanda).  The 
second  alternative,  which  substituted  innumerable  material 
substances  for  the  extended  One,  is  of  infinitely  greater 
importance  in  the  history  of  science.  We  shall  meet  it 
presently  in  the  beginnings  of  Atomism,  a  theory  which 
agrees  with  Parmenides  in  his  strict  conception  of 
Substance,  but  parts  company  with  him  in  his  negative 
attitude  towards  the  plurality  of  objects,  the  vacimvi 
dividing  them,  and  the  movement  in  space  depending 
on  it.  Here,  too,  an  historical  connection  is  at  least 
not  improbable.  The  next  question  that  suggests  itself 
is  far  less  easily  dismissed  :  Was  such  an  intervening  link 
between  the  old  forms  of  the  doctrine  of  Primary  Matter 
and  this,  its  latest  and  maturest  presentation,  necessary  at 
all .''  and,  if  so,  to  what  extent  ?  The  answer  will  be  found 
in  the  consideration  of  two  thinkers,  connected  so  closely 
by  likeness  and  contrast  as  not  to  admit  of  separate  treat- 
ment. 


2o8  GREEK   THINKERS. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

ANAXAGORAS. 

I.  Two  contemporaries  stand  before  us :  their  minds  were 
directed  to  the  same  problems,  their  methods  were  based 
on  similar  assumptions,  and  their  results  showed  signs  of 
a  very  striking  consentaneity.  And  yet  the  contrast  is 
most  remarkable.  The  one  was  a  poet,  the  other  a 
geometer.  The  one  was  gifted  with  glowing  imagination, 
the  other  with  cool  and  sober  judgment.  The  one 
was  swollen  with  vainglory  and  self-esteem,  the  other 
completely  disappeared  behind  his  work.  The  one  was  all 
flowers  and  flourishes  of  expression,  the  other  a  model  of 
language  unadorned.  The  one  was  so  malleable  and 
versatile  that  his  joints  seemed  positively  liquid,  the  other 
so  rigidly  consistent  as  at  times  to  appear  grotesque.  The 
best  qualities  of  each  were  more  or  less  the  defects  of  the 
other.  Empedocles  excelled  in  the  wit  and  brilliance  of 
his  aperqtis ;  his  elder  contemporary  was  distinguished  by 
the  coherence  and  uniformity  of  his  majestic  system  of 
thought. 

Anaxagbras  brought  philosophy  and  natural  science  from 
Ionia  to  Attica.  The  son  of  aristocratic  parents,  he  was 
born  at  Clazomenae,  in  the  immediate  neighbourhood  of 
Smyrna,  in  or  about  500  B.C.  He  is  said  to  have  neglected 
his  patrimony  and  to  have  devoted  himself  at  an  early  age 
to  the  exclusive  pursuit  of  wisdom.  We  have  no  record 
of  the  schools  he  visited  nor  of  the  places  where  he  acquired 
his  knowledge.  He  shows  frequent  signs  of  contact  with 
the  doctrines  of  Anaximander  and  Anaximenes,  but  the 


ANAXAGORAS    OF  CLAZOMEN^.  209 

tradition  which  makes  him  a  disciple  of  Anaximenes  is 
refuted  by  the  evidence  of  dates.  About  his  fortieth  year 
he  migrated  to  Athens,  where  the  great  statesman,  whose 
ideal  Athens  was  to  be  the  literary  no  less  than  the 
political  centre  of  Greece,  honoured  the  philosopher  with 
his  friendship.  For  full  thirty  years  Anaxagoras  adorned 
the  select  circle  with  which  Pericles  had  surrounded  him- 
self. He  was  fated,  too,  to  be  drawn  into  the  whirlpool 
of  party  politics.  In  the  dawn  of  the  Peloponnesian  war, 
when  the  star  of  Pericles,  the  leading  statesman,  first 
began  to  wane,  his  philosopher  friend,  like  the  charming 
and  accomplished  companion  of  his  life,  was  arraigned  on 
a  charge  of  impiety.  The  sentence  of  exile  brought  him 
back  to  his  home  in  Asia  Minor,  and  there  in  Lampsacus 
he  died,  surrounded  by  faithful  disciples,  in  the  seventy-third 
year  of  his  blameless  life.  Considerable  fragments  survive 
of  his  work,  complete  in  several  volumes,  and  written  in 
unaffected  but  not  ungraceful  prose.  It  was  published  by 
the  author  at  some  date  subsequent  to  467  B.C.,  the  year 
of  a  great  fall  of  meteorites  which  was  mentioned  in  the 
work,  and  it  is  interesting  to  add  that  it  was  the  first  book 
illustrated  with  diagrams  which  Greek  literature  possessed. 
He  resembled  his  older  Ionian  fellow-countrymen  in 
his  preoccupation  with  the  problem  of  matter,  but  the 
solution  which  he  offered  was  entirely  original.  It  com- 
pletely distinguished  him  from  all  previous  thinkers,  and 
it  showed  that  the  new  criticism  inaugurated  by  the 
Eleatics  had  not  affected  him  in  the  least.  He  may  have 
been  acquainted  with  the  didactic  poem  of  Parmenides, 
but  its  contents  had  failed  to  exercise  any  influence  on 
his  mind.  We  need  look  no  further  than  at  the  doubts 
which  Parmenides  voiced  so  emphatically  as  to  the  value 
of  the  evidence  of  the  senses  and  as  to  the  plurality  of 
objects,  in  both  of  which  crucial  instances  Anaxagoras 
neither  accepted  nor  opposed  his  teachings.  There  is  no 
reference  to  them  in  any  of  the  fragments  which  have 
come  down  to  us,  nor  in  any  of  the  supplementary  testimony 
of  antiquity.  The  precise  contrary  is  the  case.  His  system 
was  based  on  the  unconditional  belief  in  the  testimony 
VOL.  T,  p 


2IO  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  the  senses,  and  its  cornerstone  was  not  merely  a 
bare  plurality  of  objects,  but  an  inexhaustible  crowd 
of  fundamentally  different  entities  existing  from  the 
beginning  of  things.  For  a  moment  at  least  we  are 
accordingly  the  more  surprised  to  find  Anaxagoras  in 
complete  agreement  with  Parmenides  with  respect  to  the 
double  postulate  which  we  have  already  sufficiently  dis- 
cussed. His  system  recognized  no  beginning  and  no 
perishing,  nor  any  change  in  the  qualities  of  things. 
"  The  Greeks,"  he  wrote,  "  err  in  speaking  of  a  beginning 
and  a  perishing  of  things,  for  no  object  begins,  neither 
does  it  perish,  but  it  is  composed  by  a  mixture  of  existing 
objects,  and  it  is  decomposed  into  them  by  separation. 
Thus  it  would  be  better  to  call  the  beginning  a  mixture, 
and  the  perishing  a  separation."  We  have  already  learnt 
to  recognize  how  the  second  and  later  of  these  propositions 
— the  dawn  of  which  we  saw  in  Anaximenes — sprang 
from  the  earlier  postulate,  which  was  described,  in  the 
pregnant  phrase  of  Aristotle,  as  "  the  old  common  undis- 
puted doctrine  of  the  physicists."  Nor  are  we  reduced  to 
conjecture  in  order  to  explain  the  actual  process  of  develop- 
ment in  the  mind  of  Anaxagoras  himself  A  brief  fragment 
of  his  work,  the  claims  of  which,  as  we  saw,*  were  over- 
looked for  so  long,  has  thrown  a  clear  light  on  this  process. 
The  doctrine  of  matter  which  is  emblazoned  with  the  name 
of  Anaxagoras,  was  based  on  the  following  trinity  of  postu- 
lates :  The  nature  of  objects  is  such  as  the  senses  perceive  ; 
they  have  not  become  and  they  are  not  destructible ; 
and  as  it  is  with  the  objects  so  it  is  with  their  qualities. 
His  doctrine  bears  the  traces  of  the  rigid  consistency  of  his 
thought,  and  it  is  equally  conspicuous  by  its  lack  of  the 
philosopher's  indispensable  instinct  to  reject  the  guidance  of 
logic  when  it  deviates  from  the  highway  of  truth.  In  brief, 
this  theory  of  Anaxagoras  was  almost  the  exact  opposite 
of  what  science  has  taught  us  about  matter  and  its  consti- 
tution. His  fundamental  or  elemental  matter  was  sought 
in  organic  combinations  which  are  really  the  most  compli- 
cated, and  materials  which,  if  not  exactly  simple,  are  at 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.II.  §3. 


COUNTLESS   MATERIAL   ELEMENTS.  211 

least  far  less  complicated,  such  as  water  and  atmospheric 
air,  ranked  in  his  system  as  the  most  composite  combina- 
tions. If  ever  a  man  of  powerful  intellect  chose  a  wrong 
path  and  maintained  it  with  imperturbable  perseverance, 
Anaxagoras  did  so  in  his  doctrine  of  matter.  It  bore  the 
same  relation  to  the  results  of  chemistry  as  the  reverse 
of  a  carpet  bears  to  its  face.  The  following  argument  may  be 
framed  to  illustrate  his  method  of  reasoning.  A  loaf  of  bread 
lies  before  us.  It  is  composed  of  vegetable  matters,  and 
helps  to  nourish  our  body.  But  the  constituent  parts  of  the 
human  or  animal  body  are  multiple  :  it  has  skin,  flesh, 
blood,  veins,  sinews,  cartilages,  bones,  hair,  etc.  Each  of 
these  parts  is  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  its  light  or  dark 
hue,  its  softness  or  hardness,  its  elasticity  or  the  contrary, 
and  so  forth.  How,  then,  could  it  happen,  Anaxagoras  asked 
himself,  that  the  uniformly  constituted  bread  should  produce 
this  rich  multiplicity  of  objects  }  A  change  of  qualities 
was  incredible,  so  that  the  sole  remaining  hypothesis 
was  that  the  bread  which  nourishes  us  already  contained  the 
countless  forms  of  matter,  as  such,  which  the  human  body 
displays.  Their  minuteness  of  size  would  withdraw  them 
from  our  perception.  For  the  defect  or  "  weakness "  of 
the  senses  is  the  narrowness  of  their  receptive  area.  These 
elusive  particles  are  rendered  visible  and  tangible  by  the 
process  of  nutrition  which  combines  them.  What  was 
true  of  the  bread  was  likewise  true  of  the  corn.  Hence 
Anaxagoras  was  led  to  ask  how  the  variegated  medley  of 
particles  could  have  entered  in  the  corn  if  it  had  not 
already  been  present  in  the  sources  of  its  nourishment, 
earth,  water,  air,  and  solar  fire.  Moreover,  such  particles 
would  be  discoverable  there  in  the  greatest  number  and 
variety,  corresponding  to  the  countless  different  beings 
which  derived  their  nourishment  from  those  sources  ;  so 
that  earth,  water,  fire,  and  air,  which  were  apparently  the 
simplest  of  all  bodies,  were  in  reality  shown  to  be  the 
most  composite.  They  were  full  of  "  seeds"  or  elements  of 
matter  of  every  conceivable  kind,  and  were  little  more  than 
mere  collections  or  storehouses.  And,  as  it  was  with 
the   characteristics  of  the   parts  of  the  human  body  so  it 


212  GREEK   THINKERS. 

was,  according  to  Anaxagoras,  with  the  fragrance  of  every 
roseleaf,  the  hardness  of  the  sting  of  every  bee,  the 
blended  colours  in  every  eye  of  the  peacock's  tail.  The 
primary  particles  were,  in  all  these  and  innumerable  other 
cases,  extant  from  all  eternity,  but  in  a  state  of  extreme 
dispersion,  awaiting  the  circumstances  favourable  to  their 
congregation  which  alone  could  render  them  perceptible. 
The  elements  of  primary  matter  must  have  been  as 
inexhaustible  in  number  as  the  differences,  down  to  their 
least  perceptible  shades,  which  our  senses  record,  and 
as  the  combinations,  in  the  utmost  possible  variety, 
which  a  single  and  simple  material  object  could  display. 
No  one  can  fail  to  perceive  that  the  contents  of  this 
doctrine  stand  in  the  most  glaring  contradiction  with 
the  actual  results  of  modern  science,  but  the  point  to 
be  noticed  is  this :  that  the  methods  and  motives  of 
both  display  the  most  striking  concordance.  Anaxagoras, 
too,  was  concerned  to  render  the  processes  going  on  in 
the  universe  thoroughly  intelligible.  He  reduced  chemistry 
to  mechanics,  and  he  stripped  physiology  of  every  taint  of 
mysticism  till  it  was  likewise  brought  within  the  purview 
of  mechanics.  He  used  combinations  and  separations — 
changes  of  site,  that  is  to  say — to  explain  all  the  most 
secret  alterations  and  transformations.  The  theory  of 
matter  taught  by  the  sage  of  Clazomenae  was  an  experi- 
ment, rough  and  immature  though  it  may  have  been,  to 
conceive  all  material  occurrences  as  effects  of  mechanical 
motion.  We  are  for  the  most  part  ignorant  of  the  manner 
in  which  the  details  of  the  theory  were  worked  out.  We 
cannot  say,  for  instance,  how  Anaxagoras  dealt  with  the 
alterations  in  the  aspect  and  character  of  objects  which  ac- 
company the  change  in  their  state  of  aggregation.  In  this 
connection  we  have  to  rely  on  a  single  saying  of  the  master 
which  is  itself  not  a  little  enigmatic  in  meaning.  He  con- 
tended that  snow  must  be  as  dark  as  the  water  from  which 
it  comes,  and  that  to  no  one  who  knew  this  would  it  ever 
again  appear  white.  We  appreciate  the  difficulty  which  con- 
fronted his  theory  at  this  point.  It  consisted  in  the  problem 
of  the  change  of  colour  which  ensues  when  the  particles  of 


MATTER   AND   MOTION.  21  3 

water  are  brought  in  closer  contact  by  cold.  The  appeal 
to  the  "  weakness  "  of  our  sense-perception  had  no  force 
in  this  instance.  Anaxagoras'  fixed  conviction  that  the 
particles  of  water  were  necessarily  dark-coloured  in  all 
circumstances  rendered  the  philosopher,  we  would  venture 
to  believe,  a  victim  to  a  gross  delusion  of  senses.  We 
conceive  that  in  his  desire  to  see  clearly,  he  gazed  at  the 
white  quilt  stretched  across  the  landscape  and  gleaming  in 
the  wintry  sun,  till  his  dazzled  sight  began  to  see  every- 
thing black,  and  he  was  misled  into  reading  in  that 
optical  delusion  the  confirmation  of  his  preconceived 
opinion.  If  we  recall  the  hardly  less  crude  misinterpreta- 
tion of  facts  which  we  marked  in  the  reasoning  of  Anaxi- 
menes,*  the  crudity  of  the  mistake  will  be  mitigated. 
And  when  the  representatives  of  the  old  doctrine  of 
primary  matter  lifted  up  their  voices  against  his  theory, 
their  criticism  was  robbed  of  half  its  force  by  Anaxagoras' 
appeal  to  the  invisible  particles  of  matter  and  their  in- 
visible movements,  which  Heraclitus  had  been  the  first  to 
defend.  They  asked  him  how  objects  fundamentally 
different  could  be  actively  and  passively  related  with  one 
another,  and  he  answered  that  each  contained  a  portion  of 
each  ;  "  the  objects  in  this  one  world,"  cried  Anaxagoras, 
"  are  not  completely  divided  nor  hewn  asunder  as  with  an 
axe  " — a  phrase,  we  may  remark  in  parenthesis,  containing 
the  sole  metaphorical  expression  in  all  the  fragments  of 
his  work.  Each  several  object  was  described,  according  to 
this  theory,  by  the  kind  of  matter  which  prevailed  in  it,  and 
therefore  took  precedence  of  the  rest.  And  to  minimize 
the  disbelief  in  the  reality  of  the  Invisible  in  general,  he 
quoted  the  example  of  the  invisible  air  imprisoned  in  an 
inflated  bag,  and  the  resistance  it  offers  to  our  endeavours 
to  compress  it. 

2.  The  cosmogony  of  Anaxagoras  moves  up  to  a 
certain  point  in  the  lines  laid  down  by  Anaximandcr  and 
seldom  deserted  by  his  successors  to  any  serious  extent. 
Here  too  there  is  a  kind  of  Chaos  at  the  beginning.  But 
the  place  of  the  single  primary  matter  extended  without 
*  lik.  I.  Ch.  I.  §4. 


214  GREEK    THINKERS. 

bounds  is  taken  by  an  untold  number  of  primary  matters  in 
the  same  boundless  extension.  "  All  things  were  together  ;  " 
the  infinitesimal  primary  particles  in  their  indiscriminate 
confusion  formed  an  original  composite  medley,  and  their 
indistinguishable  quality  corresponded  to  the  still  absent 
difference  of  quality  in  the  one  universal  Being  of  Anaxi- 
mander.  The  "  seeds  "  or  elements  were  primarily  endowed 
with  material  characteristics,  and  a  mechanical  separation 
took  the  place  of  the  old  dynamic  "  differentiation." 
Anaxagoras  did  not  feel  himself  impelled  to  arrive  at  the 
necessary  physical  process  by  mere  inferences  nor  to  con- 
struct it  on  familiar  analogies.  He  presumed  that  he  saw 
it  in  the  apparent  revolution  of  the  firmament — a  phe- 
nomenon that  is  still  enacted  before  our  eyes  every  day 
and  every  hour.  This  revolution  was  not  merely  sup- 
posed to  have  brought  the  first  material  separation  to 
pass  in  the  beginning  of  time,  but  the  same  cause 
was  supposed  to  produce  still  and  now  the  same  effect 
in  other  parts  of  universal  space.  This  attempt  to  con- 
nect the  most  distant  past  with  the  immediate  present, 
and  the  present  again  with  the  most  distant  future,  be- 
speaks a  firmness  of  conviction  which  arouses  our  keenest 
surprise.  Anaxagoras'  belief  in  the  uniformity  of  the  forces 
that  govern  the  universe  and  in  the  regularity  of  its  phe- 
nomena was  in  striking  contrast  with  the  mythical  mode 
of  thought  prevailing  in  former  ages.  The  question  arises 
how  the  revolution  of  the  firmament  could  have  operated  in 
the  manner  alleged  of  it,  and  the  answer  he  gave  took  about 
the  following  form.  At  one  point  of  the  universe  a 
rotatory  movement  first  took  place  which  described  ever 
wider  and  wider  circles,  and  will  continue  so  to  describe 
them.  The  north  pole  may  be  regarded  with  some  pro- 
bability as  the  starting-point  of  this  movement,  which 
would  obviously  be  continued  in  circular  lines  due  in  each 
instance  to  the  shock  or  pressure  exercised  by  each 
particle  of  matter  on  its  environment.  By  this  means 
alone  could  the  first  shock,  the  origin  of  which  will 
presently  occupy  our  attention,  bring  to  pass  in  a  natural 
way  the  extraordinary  effects  which  Anaxagoras  ascribed 


INTERVENTION  OF  ''NOUS."  215 

to  it.     The   inconceivable  "  violence  and  velocity  "  of  this 
rotatory  motion,  we  may  interpret  Anaxagoras  as  thinking, 
produced  such  a  jarring  and  clashing  that  the  former  co- 
hesion of  the  mass  was  relaxed,  the  friction  of  the  particles 
was  overcome,  and  they  were  enabled  to  follow  the  bias 
of  their  specific  gravity.     Then  for  the  first  time  masses  of 
uniform  matter  were  enabled  and  obliged  to  form  themselves 
together  and  to  inhabit  various  regions  of  the  universe.    At 
its  centre,  "where  the  earth  is  now,  was  the  meeting-place 
of  the  Thick,  the  Fluid,  the  Cold,  and  the  Dark,  but  the 
Thin,  the  Warm,  and  the  Dry  escaped  far  away  into  the 
ether."     The  primary  process  which  began  with  a  rotation 
in  a  limited  area  of  space,  engendered,  it  will  be  perceived, 
an  endless  chain  of  consequences.     But  the  process  itself 
required  a  causal  explanation,  and  in  this  instance  physical 
analogies    no    longer   served    our   philosopher.      He    was 
reduced  to  what  we  may  half  correctly  call  a  supernatural 
expedient.       Half  correctly,    we   say,   because   the   agent 
which    he    summoned    to    his    help    was    neither    wholly 
material  nor  wholly  immaterial.     It  was  neither  composed 
of    a    common    element,    nor    was   it   completely    divine  ; 
moreover,    though    it    was    described    as   "boundless    and 
self-governing,"  yet  its  force  was  so  rarely,  nay,  so  excep- 
tionally employed  that  its  actual  dominion  over  nature  might 
be  called  a  sovereignty  in  principle,  but  never  a  sovereignty 
in    fact.     It  was   the  Nous  which  was  supposed  to  have 
given  that  first  shock,  and  we  prefer  to  leave  this  word 
in  the  original  Greek,  since  every  translation,  whether  we 
render  it  by  "  mind  "  or  by  "  thought-element,"  introduces 
something  foreign    to   its  nature.     According  to    Anaxa- 
goras' own  account,  it  was  "  the  finest  and  purest  of  all 
things;"  it  was   "alone   free    from    admixture    with    any 
other    thing,    for   had    it   been    so   mixed    it  would  have 
participated  with  all  other  things  " — it  will  be  remembered 
that    the     segregation     of    elements    was     incomplete — 
"  and     its    admixture    would    have    prevented     it     from 
exercising   the   same    force   over    any   single    object "    as 
its  pure   condition    enables    it   to  do.      Further   explana- 
tions   describe  the    Nous    as    possessing    "all   knowledge 


2l6  GREEK   THINKERS. 

about  everything,  past,  present,  and  future,"  and  endow 
it  with  "supreme  power."  But  the  temptation  to  rank  it 
with  the  highest  godhead  is  opposed  by  other  considera- 
tions no  less  essential  to  its  character.  We  read  of  a 
"more  and  less  of"  Nous  ;  it  is  described  as  divisible  and 
as  "  inhabiting  some  things,"  by  which  all  living  beings  are 
to  be  understood. 

This  doctrine  can  be  traced  to  two  quite  distinct 
motives  which  mutually  kept  each  other  in  check.  The 
universe  is  full  of  indications  of  order  and  beauty  ;  its 
factors  are  linked  together  in  the  guise  of  means  to  an  end, 
and  this  spectacle  suggests  the  thought  of  conscious 
government  and  deliberate  operation.  In  fact,  the 
design-argument  is  still  the  strongest  weapon  in  the 
armoury  of  philosophic  Theism.  Later  thinkers  have 
entrusted  this  exalted  task  to  a  Being  purged  from  ever>' 
material  element,  but  Anaxagoras  believed  that  its  re- 
quirements would  be  satisfied  by  a  kind  of  fluid  or  ether. 
In  this  he  was  following  the  precedent  of  Anaximenes  and 
Heraclitus,  whose  Air  and  Fire,  though  they  did  not  set 
definite  ends  before  them,  were  yet  honoured  as  the  vehicles 
of  universal  intellect,  and  he  agreed  likewise  with  nine- 
tenths  of  the  ancient  philosophers  in  so  far  as  they  regarded 
the  individual  "soul"  as  a  substance  not  immaterial,  but  of 
an  extremely  refined  and  mobile  materiality.  With  this 
theory  the  teleological  problem  entered  on  the  field  for  the 
first  time,  never  again  to  disappear,  and  it  involved  a  serious 
danger  to  the  progress  of  science.  But  happily  Anaxa- 
goras, who  so  frequently  drove  his  logic  to  excess,  was 
content  to  be  illogical  in  this  instance.  Plato  and  Aris- 
totle both  blamed  him  for  his  lack  of  consistency.  They 
were  delighted  at  the  introduction  of  the  new  agent,  but 
their  pleasure  was  considerably  tempered  by  its  use  as  a 
stop-gap  or  makeshift.  They  complained  that  Anaxagoras 
employed  the  Nous  as  the  dens  ex  tnachind  of  the  dramatists, 
whose  function  it  was  to  descend  from  heaven  and  cut  the 
tragic  knot  when  no  milder  means  could  be  found  of  dis- 
entangling its  confusion.  For  all  minor  details  Anaxagoras 
had  recourse   to    "air,  and    ether,  and   water,    and   other 


ANAXAGORAS  AND    THE   SUN.  21 'J 

eccentricities,"  to  anything,  in  short,  in  preference  to  his 
curious  reasoning  fluid.  Of  course  he  might  have  acted 
otherwise  ;  he  might  have  satisfied  Plato's  condition,  and 
have  made  his  whole  inquiry  from  the  point  of  view  of 
"  the  better  ; "  at  every  separate  phenomenon  he  might  have 
asked  why  and  to  what  end  it  occurred  instead  of  how  and 
under  what  conditions  it  came  to  pass,  but  in  such  cir- 
cumstances his  contribution  to  human  knowledge  would 
have  been  yet  far  more  modest  than  was  actually 
the  case.  Our  own  limited  horizon  and  the  consequent 
impossibility  of  guessing  the  intentions  of  the  Being  who 
governs  the  world  would  make  this  road  a  path  of 
error  and  delusion,  which  Anaxagoras  was  fortunate  to 
avoid.  He  was  not  merely  half  a  theologian,  but  he  was 
a  full-grown  natural  philosopher  as  well,  though  his  endow- 
ment was  extremely  one-sided.  To  his  own  contemporaries 
he  appeared  a  very  type  of  that  kind,  the  more  so  as 
the  new  theology,  by  which  the  Nous  doctrine  may  be 
described,  had  completely  released  him  from  the  old 
mythological  fetters.  The  great  objects  of  nature  were 
no  longer  divine  in  his  eyes  :  they  were  masses  of  matter, 
obedient  to  the  same  natural  laws  as  all  other  material 
aggregates  whether  great  or  small.  It  was  a  constant 
topic  of  adverse  criticism  among  his  own  contemporaries 
that  he  looked  on  the  sun,  for  instance,  no  longer  as 
Helios  the  god,  but  as  nothing  more  or  less  than  "  an 
ignited  stone."  There  was  only  a  single  point  in  his 
theory  of  the  formation  of  the  firmament  and  the  universe 
in  which  he  deserted  his  mechanical  and  physical  principles 
to  assume  an  outside  intervention.  That  first  shock  which 
set  in  motion  the  process  of  the  universe  that  had  hitherto 
been  in  repose  reminds  us  in  a  most  striking  fashion  of 
the  first  impulse  which  the  Deity  is  supposed  by  some 
modern  astronomers  to  have  given  to  the  stars.  Or 
rather,  it  would  be  more  correct  to  say  that  both  ideas 
are  practically  identical.  They  were  intended  to  fill  up  the 
same  lacuna  in  our  knowledge  ;  they  sprang  from  the  same 
desire  to  introduce  in  the  mechanism  of  heaven  a  .second  force 
of  unknown  origin  to  take  its  place  by  the  side  of  gravity. 


2l8      .  GREEK   THINKERS. 

We  would  not  by  any  means  be  understood  to  credit  the 
sage  of  Clazomenae  with  an  anticipation  of  Newton's  law 
of  gravitation  or  with  a  knowledge  of  the  parallelogram 
of  forces,  and  of  the  twofold  composition  of  the  orbits 
described  by  the  stars,  consisting  of  gravity  on  the  one 
part,  and  on  the  other  of  a  tangential  force  harking  back 
to  that  one  original  shock.  But  a  brief  consideration  will 
show  how  nearly  his  thought  was  allied  with  the  principles 
of  modern  astronomy.  In  the  course  of  his  cosmogony  he 
taught  that  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  had  been  torn  away 
from  the  common  centre  of  the  earth  by  the  violence  of 
the  cosmic  revolution.  Thus  he  assumed  a  series  of  pro- 
jections or  "  hurlings-off "  in  precisely  the  same  kind  as 
the  theory  of  Kant  and  Laplace  assumes  for  the  formation 
of  the  solar  system.  They  were  caused,  according  to 
Anaxagoras,  by  a  force  which  could  only  effect  that 
result  after  the  cosmic  revolution  had  begun  and  had 
attained  considerable  strength  and  velocity.  This  force 
we  call  the  centrifugal.  Next  Anaxagoras  turned  his 
attention  to  the  gigantic  meteorite  of  ^Egospotami  which 
we  mentioned  above,  and  which  was  compared  to  a  millstone. 
He  argued  that  as  this  stone  had  fallen  from  the  sun,  so  all 
the  starry  masses  would  fall  down  on  the  earth  as  soon  as 
the  force  of  rotation  relaxed  and  no  longer  kept  them  in 
their  courses.  Thus,  from  the  most  diverse  coigns  of 
observation  his  eye  was  led  back  to  the  same  starting- 
point,  at  what  we  may  venture  to  call  the  primeval  secret 
of  mechanics.  The  force  of  gravity  did  not  appear  to 
him  to  be  adequate.  His  conception  of  it,  parenthetically 
remarked,  was  imperfect,  including  as  it  did  a  belief  in  the 
absolute  lightness  of  certain  substances.  He  could  not 
employ  it  to  explain  the  separation  of  the  masses  of  matter 
nor  the  origin,  duration,  and  motion  of  the  luminaries  and 
firmament.  He  concluded  that  an  opposite  force  was  at  work. 
Its  operation  was  at  once  direct  and  indirect,  and  in  the  latter 
category  was  chiefly  comprised  the  opportunity  that  it  gave 
to  the  action  of  centrifugal  force.  In  both  categories  it 
released  an  immeasurable  series  of  effects  indispensable 
to  the  comprehension  of  universal  phenomena.     The  origin 


THE   HUMAN  HAND.  219 

of  this  force  was  hidden  in  outer  darkness.  Anaxagoras 
referred  it  back  to  an  impulse  which  was  intended  to  com- 
plete the  operation  of  gravity  in  precisely  the  same  way 
as  the  shock  in  which  the  predecessors  of  Laplace  had 
affected  to  discover  the  starting-point  of  tangential  force. 

3.  The  cosmogony  of  Anaxagoras  was  distinguished  by 
the  spirit  of  true  science.  It  was  especially  displayed  in 
his  acceptation  of  bold  hypotheses  where  the  facts  left 
him  no  alternative,  while  he  brought  to  bear  on  such 
hypotheses  an  extraordinary  degree  of  ingenuity,  thus 
enabling  them  to  fulfil  a  large  number  of  requirements  at 
once,  like  the  best  examples  of  the  legislative  art.  A 
minimum  of  hypothesis,  that  is  to  say,  was  to  cover  a 
maximum  of  explanation.  We  have  already  sufficiently 
shown  in  what  admirable  stead  this  talent  stood  him  in 
the  single  instance  of  quasi-supernatural  intervention.  We 
have  next  to  mention  the  remarkable  attempt  which 
sprang  from  the  same  mental  tendency  to  explain  the 
intellectual  superiority  of  man.  Anaxagoras  referred  it 
to  the  possession  of  the  single  organ  of  the  hand,  and 
compared  it,  in  all  probability,  with  the  corresponding  part 
of  the  body  in  the  animal  structures  that  stand  next  to 
us.  The  theory  reminds  us  of  Benjamin  Franklin's  phrase 
about  the  "tool-making  animal."  We  are  not  acquainted 
with  the  details  of  his  argumentation,  and  we  readily 
admit  that  it  may  have  substituted  the  part  for  the  whole. 
But  it  bore  witness  to  that  deep-rooted  objection  to  piling 
specific  differences  on  one  another  and  multiplying  inexplic- 
able final  facts,  which  is  perhaps  the  chief  feature  by 
which  the  genuine  philosopher  may  be  distinguished  from 
his  counterfeit. 

The  rest  of  the  astronomy  of  Anaxagoras  was  little 
more  than  an  heirloom  of  Miletus.  The  great  man  might 
almost  be  said  to  have  inherited  the  self-satisfaction  of  the 
lonians  of  the  Twelve  Cities  whom  Herodotus  satirized 
so  bitterly.  He  was  quite  unamenable  to  any  influence 
which  did  not  proceed  from  his  own  country.  He  ignored 
or  rejected  as  incredible  the  globular  shape  of  the  earth 
which    Parmenides    had    promulgated.      He   agreed    with 


2  20  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Anaximenes  in  regarding  the  earth  as  flat,  and  in  the 
explanation  of  its  state  of  rest.  At  this  point,  however, 
we  are  met  by  a  difficulty  which  has  still  to  be  realized 
and  explained.  According  to  Aristotle's  account,  Anaxagoras 
conceived  the  earth  as  closing  the  centre  of  Cosmos  like 
a  lid  and  resting,  as  it  were,  on  an  air-cushion,  from  which 
the  air  underneath  was  unable  to  escape.  But,  according 
to  other  equally  trustworthy  accounts,  his  theory  admitted 
that  the  stars  moved  under  the  earth  as  well  as  above  it, 
and  it  is  impossible  to  reconcile  these  two  versions.  We 
must  note,  by  the  way,  that  in  the  beginning  of  time  the 
stars  moved  sideways  round  the  earth,  and  thus  never  sank 
below  the  horizon,  so  that  the  second  proposition  of 
Anaxagoras  had  not  always  held  good  in  his  theory.  He 
would  not  accept  the  inclination  of  the  earth's  axis  as  a 
primeval  fact,  evidently  because  it  failed  to  satisfy  his 
strong  bias  to  uniformity.  So  he  believed  it  to  have  taken 
place  at  a  later  date,  by  what  means  we  are  not  told.  It 
was  dated  after  the  beginning  of  organic  life,  doubtless 
because  that  extraordinary  event  required  a  com- 
plete revision  of  existing  cosmological  conditions,  and  was 
perhaps  better  compatible  with  a  permanent  spring  than 
with  the  changes  of  the  seasons.  In  other  respects  the 
views  of  Anaxagoras  were  childish  enough.  His  notions  of 
the  size  of  the  heavenly  bodies  may  be  illustrated  by  his 
statement  that  the  sun  was  greater  than  the  Peloponnesus. 
He  could  suggest  no  more  fortunate  explanation  for  the 
solstice  than  that  the  density  of  the  air  compelled  the  sun 
to  turn  round.  And  the  moon  with  its  milder  heat  was 
supposed  to  be  less  capable  of  resisting  the  dense  air,  and 
therefore  to  be  obliged  to  turn  more  frequently.  Still,  if 
we  may  trust  the  reports,  despite  all  these  blemishes  on 
his  astronomy,  Anaxagoras  can  point  to  one  important 
achievement.  He  may  claim  to  have  been  the  first  to 
have  elaborated  the  correct  theory  of  the  phases  of  the 
moon  and  of  eclipses.  In  the  last-named  instance,  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  he  detracted  from  his  own  merits 
by  adding  the  non-luminous  stars  of  Anaximenes  to  the 
shadows  of  the  earth  and  moon  as  the  causes  of  an  eclipse. 


THE   MILKY    WAY.  221 

Another  part  of  the  doctrine  of  Anaxagoras  is  extremely 
instructive  for  the  weaknesses  as  well  as  the  strong  points 
of  the  spirit  he  brought  to  his  inquiries.  He  made  an 
attempt  to  explain  the  accumulated  clusters  of  stars  in  the 
Milky  Way  by  which  he  dismissed  them  as  merely  apparent 
and  due  to  the  strong  contrast  in  that  region  of  the  sky 
between  the  light  of  the  stars  and  the  shadow  of  the  earth. 
We  may  suppose  him  to  have  reasoned  as  follows.  The 
daylight  prevents  us  altogether  from  seeing  the  stars  in  the 
sky,  which  only  become  visible  in  the  darkness  of  night. 
Additional  darkness,  therefore,  will  be  accompanied  by 
additional  visibility,  and  the  greatest  visible  number  of 
stars  will  merely  afford  evidence  that  the  darkness  in  that 
region  had  been  the  greatest.  And  he  had  no  other 
explanation  to  offer  of  this  maximum  of  darkness  save 
the  one  mentioned  above.  At  the  best  the  theory  was 
at  variance  with  the  facts  of  common  observation.  It 
illustrates  afresh  the  one-sided  deductive  bias  of  the 
mind  of  Anaxagoras  and  his  indifference  to  the  justifica- 
tion of  his  hypotheses.  If  his  explanation  were  correct, 
the  Milky  Way  would  have  to  coincide  with  the  ecliptic, 
whereas  it  is  actually  inclined  to  it,  and  an  eclipse  of  the 
moon  would  be  bound  to  occur  whenever  it  passed  over  the 
Milky  Way.  Nevertheless  we  must  recognize  his  argument 
as  exceptionally  ingenious,  and  must  admit  that  the  problem 
he  approached  was  no  idle  intellectual  riddle.  Anaxagoras 
was  probably  a  little  exorbitant  in  his  demands  on  the 
symmetry  of  cosmic  phenomena.  We  have  already  had 
occasion  to  mark  this  tendency,  which  is  by  no  means 
surprising  in  the  author  of  the  doctrine  of  Nous.  But  the 
sage  of  Clazomenae  may  claim  some  points  of  contact  with 
the  astronomers  of  to-day.  They  too  are  not  content  to 
explain  the  Milky  Way  as  due  to  an  original  irregularity 
in  the  distribution  of  cosmic  matter.  And  they  likewise 
seek  for  a  mere  optical  delusion  behind  that  huge  exception, 
and  they  find  it  in  the  crowded  condition  which  the  stars 
assume  in  our  eyes  owing  to  the  presumed  lenticular 
shape  of  the  Milky  Way  system  to  which  the  earth 
belongs. 


2  22  GREEK    THINKERS. 

In  the  meteorology  of  Anaxagoras  his  correct  explana- 
tion of  the  winds  as  due  to  changes  of  temperature  and  atmo- 
spheric density  is  worthy  of  mention  ;  and  in  his  geography 
we  may  instance  the  account  given  of  the  rise  of  the  Nile  as 
the  result  of  the  melted  snows  in  the  mountains  of  Central 
Africa — an  account  which  antiquity  pursued  with  ridicule, 
but  which  is  at  least  partially  correct.  Anaxagoras  followed 
in  Anaximander's  footsteps  with  respect  to  the  beginnings 
of  organic  life,  but  he  struck  out  a  path  of  his  own  in  his 
doctrine  that  the  first  vegetable  germs  had  fallen  on  the 
earth  with  the  rain  out  of  the  air,  which  was  filled  with 
"  seeds "  of  all  kinds.  This  doctrine  is  probably  to  be 
connected  with  the  great  significance  attached  by  the  sage 
to  the  operation  of  air  in  organic  life.  Plants,  for  instance, 
in  his  theory  were  represented  as  breathing  after  a  fashion, 
though  the  statement  could  have  rested  on  no  exact  obser- 
vations, and  he  was  the  first  to  discover  that  fishes  breathed 
through  their  gills.  In  other  respects,  too,  Anaxagoras  did 
not  recognize  any  impassable  gulf  between  the  animal  and 
the  vegetable  creations.  Plants  were  supposed  to  participate 
at  least  in  feelings  of  pleasure  and  pain,  the  pleasure 
being  the  accompaniment  of  the  growth  of  trees,  and  pain 
of  the  loss  of  their  leaves.  Similarly,  though  no  hint  of  the 
doctrine  of  evolution  was  compatible  with  his  theory  of 
matter,  he  refused  to  regard  the  various  orders  of  the 
animal  kingdom — to  transfer  his  expression  from  another 
context — as  "hewn  asunder  with  an  axe."  It  is  diffi- 
cult to  overpraise  his  tendency,  which  we  have  already 
had  occasion  to  notice  with  approval,  not  needlessly  to 
pile  up  specific  differences  on  one  another,  and  it  saved 
him  in  this  instance  too  from  the  mistakes  of  some  later 
thinkers.  In  intellectual  endowment  he  recognized  only 
differences  of  degree,  and  his  Nous  was  located  by  him  in 
all  animals  without  exception,  the  great  and  the  small, 
the  high  and  the  low,  with  no  other  difference  except 
that  of  quantity. 

4.  Anaxagoras'  theory  of  the  senses  need  not  detain  us 
long.  We  should  note,  however,  that  it  did  not  admit  the 
principle  of  relativity   except  where   the  facts  were  quite 


ANAXAGORAS   AND    THE   SENSES.  223 

unequivocal.  In  the  feeling  of  temperature  he  was  ready  to 
allow  that  an  object  such  as  water  will  make  a  warmer 
impression  on  the  sense,  the  colder  the  hand  that  tries 
it.  But  in  general  it  may  be  said  that  he  regarded  the 
evidence  of  the  senses  as  truthful,  but  weak.  He 
affected  to  build  up  on  it  a  completely  true  conception 
of  the  outer  world,  and  our  readers  are  already  well 
acquainted  with  the  doctrine  of  matter  which  the  sage 
of  Clazomenae  based  on  that  foundation.  Still,  it  will  not 
be  out  of  place  to  recall  its  features  once  more.  There 
were  two  original  premises,  the  first  of  which  stated  that 
"  there  is  no  change  of  qualities,"  and  the  second  of  which 
asserted  that  "  objects  really  possess  the  qualities  which  the 
senses  reveal  to  us."  From  these  premises  the  inevitable 
conclusion  was  deduced  that  "  every  difference  of  sensible 
qualities  is  fundamental,  original,  and  inalienable."  There 
is,  therefore,  not  one  primary  matter,  or  a  few  of  them,  but 
absolutely  countless  primary  matters.  Or,  more  precisely 
stated,  nothing  was  left  but  the  distinction  between  homo- 
geneous accumulations  (homoiomeries)  and  heterogeneous 
mixtures,  thus  involving  the  disappearance  of  that  between 
original  and  derivative  forms  of  matter.  Anaxagoras 
had  reverted  to  the  cmde  conception  of  nature  held  by 
primitive  man  ;  he  had  abandoned  the  doctrine  of  primary 
matter  which  previous  philosophers  had  taught,  and  he  had 
even  gone  back  on  those  early  endeavours  towards  the 
simplification  of  the  material  world  which  are  found  in 
Homer,  in  the  Avesta,  or  in  the  book  of  Genesis.  The 
arguments  underlying  that  doctrine  were  nevertheless  not 
shaken.  Their  irresistible  force  still  overwhelmed  the 
inquirer  with  a  conviction  of  the  interdependence  of  the 
countless  elements  of  matter,  so  that  it  might  almost  be 
said  that  postulates  of  equal  cogency  stood  in  irrecon- 
cilable opposition.  The  problem  of  matter,  in  a  word,  had 
been  stranded  on  the  shallows.  It  was  a  cul-de-sac  from 
which  there  was  but  one  possible  outlet.  The  premises  of 
the  theory  of  primary  matter  had  been  completely  refuted  by 
the  conclusions  derived  from  them — conclusions  thoroughly 
false,    as   we    now    know,  and  incredible  in  themselves,  as 


2  24  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Anaxagoras'  own  contemporaries  had  not  failed  to  per- 
ceive. But  the  premises  were  not  therefore  necessarily 
wrong  ;  they  might  merely  have  been  incomplete,  and  if 
so,  it  would  have  been  enough  to  supplement  them  without 
altogether  rejecting  them.  The  stumbling-block  was 
rolled  out  of  the  way,  and  the  belief  in  the  qualitative 
constancy  of  matter,  which  we  have  learnt  to  call  the 
second  postulate  of  matter,  could  be  permanently  main- 
tained as  soon  as  one  condition  was  fulfilled.  This 
condition  was  to  recognize  a  part  only  of  sensuous 
qualities  as  truly  objective,  and  not  their  totality.  The 
new  doctrine  of  cognition  came  to  the  rescue  of  the  old 
doctrine  of  matter.  A  distinction  arose  between  objective 
and  subjective,  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  things, 
and  this  was  the  great  intellectual  feat  which  was  alone 
calculated  to  reconcile  the  hitherto  irreconcilable  demands, 
and  which  actually  effected  their  reconciliation.  A  fresh  tier 
was  added — a  higher  one,  though  surely  not  the  highest — to 
the  rising  mansion  of  science,  and  the  name  of  Leucippus 
must  always  be  mentioned  with  honour  in  connection  with 
this  great  service  to  philosophy.  The  vessel  which  had 
grounded  on  the  sands  was  floated  once  more  through  his 
handiwork.  And  Anaxagoras  deserves  a  hardly  less 
honourable  meed.  It  was  his  supreme  merit,  in  our  opinion, 
to  have  made  visible  to  the  weakest  sight  the  necessity  of 
thus  supplementing  the  theory  of  matter,  for  the  unde- 
viating  logic  of  his  arguments  had  not  even  shrunk  from 
absurdities. 

As  often  happens,  the  renown  which  Anaxagoras 
enjoyed  in  antiquity  was  due  as  much  to  the  defects  as 
to  the  qualities  of  his  mind.  His  teaching  was  marked 
by  a  patriarchal  dogmatism.  His  method  of  thought,  and 
doubtless  his  manner  as  well,  were  stiff  and  hard  ;  the  doc- 
trines with  which  he  frequently  did  violence  to  the  common 
sense  of  mankind  were  promulgated  with  oracular  convic- 
tion, and  we  can  hardly  doubt  that  by  this  he  succeeded  in 
exercising  a  fascinating  influence  far  and  wide.  For  his 
characteristics  would  have  contrasted  as  sharply  as  possible 
with  the  vague  uncertainty  of  his  times.      It  was  an  age 


ANAXAGORAS   AND   HIS    TIMES.  225 

of  excessive  mental  suppleness,  when  thought  was  as  full  of 
the  germs  of  scepticism  as  the  air  or  water  in  the  doctrine 
of  Anaxagoras  with  the  "  seeds  "  of  things.  Nor  can  we 
altogether  escape  the  record  of  a  second  impression.  There 
was  bound  to  be  a  little  curling  of  the  lips  among  the  con- 
temporaries of  Anaxagoras  when  their  esteemed  teacher 
paraded  so  intimate  an  acquaintance  with  all  the  secrets 
of  the  universe,  as  if  he  had  personally  assisted  at  the 
origin  of  the  world ;  when  he  proclaimed  the  wildest 
paradoxes — his  doctrine  of  matter,  for  instance — in  tones 
of  the  calmest  infallibility  ;  and  when,  with  the  confidence 
of  revelation,  he  told  stories  of  other  worlds,  worlds  which 
repeated  in  detail  the  procession  of  earthly  phenomena, 
worlds  inhabited  by  a  race  of  men  who  built  their  home- 
steads and  ploughed  their  fields  and  carried  their  produce 
to  the  market — and  all  this  with  the  reiterated  assurance, 
occurring  like  the  burden  of  a  song,  "just  as  it  is  with  us." 
Yes,  it  is  quite  comprehensible  that  Xenophon  should  have 
been  expressing  not  merely  his  personal  conviction,  but 
a  current  opinion  of  his  age,  when  he  stated  that  the 
great  philosopher  was  "a  little  off  his  head."  The  times 
in  which  he  lived  were  seething  with  scepticism,  but  he 
stood  apart  from  it  in  all  respects  except  his  attitude  of 
disdain  towards  the  popular  religion.  For  the  rest,  he 
clung  to  the  evidence  of  senses  as  it  were  to  a  rock, 
reminding  us  by  his  unquestioning  faith  of  the  least  philo- 
sophic of  modern  followers  of  natural  research  ;  he  betrayed 
no  taste  or  understanding  for  dialectic  discussion,  and 
probably  neglected  if  he  did  not  despise  the  subtle  doubts 
and  arguments  of  Zeno ;  like  a  greater  thinker — 

"  for  ever 
Voyaging  through  strange  seas  of  thought  alone," 

he  pursue  1  his  course  with  the  unsuspecting  temerity  of 
a  sleep-walker  unconscious  of  obstacles,  undisturbed  b}^ 
doubts,  and  undistractcd  by  the  difficulties  of  the  way  ; 
his  arid  teachings  were  unillumined  by  a  spark  of  poetry 
or  humour ;  and  the  solitary  author  of  these  apodictic 
and  venturesome  doctrines  cannot  always  have  cut  the 
VOL.   I.  <) 


2  26  GREEK    THINKERS. 

best  figure  among  the  great  men  of  his  age  with  their 
versatile  gifts  and  their  almost  excessive  pliability.  Many 
people  were  greatly  impressed  by  his  fine  air  of  calm 
and  his  confident  self-esteem  ;  others  execrated  his  bold- 
ness for  looking  too  deeply  into  the  secrets  of  the  gods  ; 
others,  again,  and  these  by  no  means  the  least  numerous, 
must  at  least  have  regarded  him  as  a  little  "twisted,"  if 
not  as  absolutely  awry.  To  our  thinking,  Anaxagoras  was 
a  man  of  great  deductive  powers,  of  exceptional  inventive- 
ness, and  with  a  strongly  developed  sense  of  causation  ; 
but  these  advantages  were  counteracted  by  a  striking  want 
of  sound  intuition,  and  by  a  virtual  indifference  to  the 
justification  by  fact  of  his  finely  wrought  hypotheses. 


(        227        ) 


CHAPTER   V. 

EMPEDOCLES. 

The  modem  traveller  who  visits  Girgenti  is  reminded  at 
every  step  of  Empedocles,  for  the  beautiful  piety  of  the 
Italians,  fostered  by  the  continuity  of  their  civilization, 
takes  no  count  of  chronological  barriers.  What  Virgil  is 
to  his  Mantuans,  Stesichorus  to  the  inhabitants  of  Catania, 
and  the  great  Archimedes  to  his  fellow-citizens  of  Syra- 
cuse, so  dear  and  so  beloved  is  the  memory  of  their  great 
fellow-countryman  Empedocles,  the  philosopher  and  the 
leader  of  the  people,  to  the  inhabitants  of  Girgenti.*  He 
is  worshipped  as  a  democrat  by  the  disciples  of  Mazzini 
and  Garibaldi,  because  he  overthrew  the  rule  of  the  nobles 
who  had  oppressed  Acragas  for  three  years,  and  refused 
the  royal  crown  for  his  own  head.  This  tradition,  which 
is  credible  in  itself,  is  in  unison  with  all  that  we  know  of 
the  circumstances  of  his  life  and  of  the  condition  of  his 
native  city.  Moreover,  similar  stirring  scenes  were  enacted 
about  that  time  in  other  Sicilian  communities.  The  family 
of  Empedocles  was  one  of  the  most  aristocratic  in  the 
country.  It  was  at  the  height  of  its  wealth  and  splendour 
at  the  date  of  his  own  birth — between  500  and  480  B.C. 
In  the  year  496  B.C.  another  Empedocles,  his  grandfather, 
had  taken  the  prize  at  Olympia  in  the  four-horse  chariot 
race.  A  quarter  of  a  century  later,  in  470  B.C.,  Meto,  the 
father  of  the  philosopher,  had  taken  an  active  and  promi- 
nent part  among  the  citizens  of  Acragas  in  overthrowing  the 
tyranny  of  Thrasidaius.  We  are,  therefore,  not  overmuch 
*  Aj,^rigentum,  Acragas. 


2  28  GREEK    THINKERS. 

surprised  to  learn  that  the  road  to  royal  power  stood  open 
for  his  high-spirited  and  high-born  son.  Nor  need  we 
ascribe  it  to  the  motive  of  pure  love  for  the  people  that 
Empedocles  resigned  the  chance  of  solitary  rule  as  well  as 
a  participation  in  the  oligarchic  government.  His  decision 
may  well  have  been  due  to  the  force  of  shrewd  common 
sense.  As  one  of  the  founders  of  rhetoric,  he  was  an 
orator  as  well  as  a  thinker,  and  he  may  conceivably  have 
hoped  to  play  a  more  distinguished  part  under  democratic 
institutions  than  in  the  narrow  circle  of  his  peers.  Further- 
more, it  is  no  mean  title  to  fame  to  have  refused  a  crown  ; 
the  crown  that  has  not  been  worn  is  innocent  of  blood 
and  mud,  but  the  throne  that  has  arisen  from  the  troubled 
waters  of  revolution  may  lightly  sink  back  into  them. 
Empedocles  lived  in  an  age  of  ferment,  when  the  princely 
dignity  itself  was  not  exempt  from  the  changes  of  popular 
favour.  But  as  a  private  man  he  was  safe  at  least  from 
the  vengeful  steel  of  the  republican  fanatic.  If  the  wayward 
mob  grew  tired  of  his  leadership  it  could  drive  him  into 
exile,  and  this  would  appear  to  be  the  fate  which  actually 
overtook  Empedocles.  At  the  age  of  threescore  years  he 
succumbed  to  an  accident  in  the  Peloponnese,  and  died  a 
stranger  in  a  strange  land.  Antiquity  deemed  this  end 
unworthy  of  the  wonderful  man,  and,  according  to  one  fable, 
he  perished  in  consequence  of  a  leap  into  the  crater  of  .^tna, 
while  another  account  sent  him  straight  to  heaven  in  a 
cloud  of  flame. 

But  the  strenuous  ambition  of  Empedocles  soared 
higher  than  all  princely  thrones.  A  shining  palace  on 
the  bank  of  "  the  yellow  Acragas "  might  be  tempting 
enough,  but  the  dominion  over  800,000  subjects  is  in- 
significant in  comparison  with  the  mastery  exercised  over 
countless  souls  bound  by  no  temporal  or  local  conditions, 
by  the  sage,  the  seer,  the  miracle-worker.  A  king  is 
inferior  to  a  god,  and  no  meaner  boast  did  Empedocles 
make  to  his  elect — "  I  am  an  immortal  god  unto  you  ; 
look  on  me  no  more  as  a  mortal."  In  purple  vestments, 
with  a  golden  girdle,  with  the  priestly  laurel  bound  in 
the  long  hair  that   framed  his   melancholy   features,  and 


EMPEDOCLES   A    ''GOD."  229 

surrounded  by  the  hosts  of  men  and  women  who  worshipped 
him,  Empedocles  made  his  progress  through  the  Sicilian 
land.  He  was  acclaimed  by  thousands  and  tens  of 
thousands  of  the  populace,  who  clung  at  his  feet  and 
implored  him  to  direct  them  to  a  prosperous  future,  as  well 
as  to  heal  in  the  present  their  sickness  and  sores  of  all 
kinds.  He  claimed  the  sceptre  of  the  winds,  the  key  of 
the  burning  sunbeams  and  destructive  falls  of  rain.  And 
he  could  point  to  examples  of  his  might.  It  was  he  who 
had  freed  the  city  of  Selinus  from  its  deadly  pestilence  by 
draining  its  soil ;  it  was  he  who  had  bored  through  a  rock 
and  opened  a  road  for  the  north  wind  to  give  his  native 
city  a  wholesome  climate.  His  achievements  as  an 
engineer  were  matched  by  his  achievements  or  promises 
as  a  physician.  He  had  wakened  from  catalepsy  a  victim 
who  had  lain  thirty  days  like  a  dead  woman  "without 
pulse  or  breath,"  and  Gorgias,  his  disciple,  had  seen  him 
"  perform  magic  feats,"  a  piece  of  evidence  which  cannot 
fairly  be  interpreted  as  referring  to  hypnotic  or  other 
cures  due  to  the  power  of  the  imagination. 

It  is  difficult  to  form  a  just  estimate  of  a  mind  and 
character  in  which  the  true  gold  of  genuine  merit  was 
mixed  with  so  strange  an  alloy  of  tawdry  and  showy 
tinsel.  It  is  an  excuse,  though  hardly  a  justification,  to 
recall  the  peculiarities  of  the  fellow-countrymen,  and 
perhaps  fellow-citizens,  of  Empedocles.  The  inhabitants 
of  the  island  which  proved  the  cradle  of  rhetoric,  were 
always  disposed  to  ostentation  and  pretence.  The  very 
ruins  of  the  temples  which  crown  the  heights  of  Girgenti 
create  a  disagreeable  impression  of  an  exaggerated  desire 
for  effect  It  is  yet  more  difficult  to  trace  the  doctrines  of 
our  philosopher  to  their  fountain-head,  for  they  appear,  at 
first  sight  at  least,  to  be  deficient  in  the  virtue  of  strict 
consistency,  and  have  not  escaped  the  reproach  of  a  vicious 
eclecticism. 

2.  The  physician,  the  hierophant,  the  orator,  the 
politician,  the  author  of  works  for  the  common  good, 
whatever  their  secondary  tastes,  are  united  by  their  prime 
interest   in  man.     We  shall  therefore  expect  to  find  that 


230  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Empedocles  the  philosopher  was  an  anthropologist  as  well 
as  a  cosmologist,  and  that  his  investigation  of  nature  led 
him  to  the  regions  of  physiology,  chemistry,  and  physics, 
rather  than  to  those  of  astronomy  and  mathematics.  And 
the  facts  justify  our  expectation.  The  sage  of  Acragas  never 
concerned  himself  with  the  science  of  space  and  numbers, 
and  he  was  but  an  indifferent  student  of  the  science  of  the 
stars.  In  biological  research,  on  the  contrary,  he  intro- 
duced some  fresh  contributions  which  proved  by  no  means 
unfertile  ;  but  the  crowning  point  of  his  work  was  attained 
in  his  doctrine  of  matter.  It  is  hardly  an  exaggeration  to 
say  that  Empedocles  takes  us  at  a  bound  into  the  heart  of 
modern  chemistry.  We  are  confronted  for  the  first  time 
with  three  fundamental  conceptions  of  that  science  :  the 
assumption  of  a  plurality,  and  of  a  limited  plurality,  of 
primary  elements  ;  the  premise  of  combination  in  which 
such  elements  enter ;  and,  finally,  the  recognition  of 
numerous  quantitative  differences  or  proportional  variations 
of  the  said  combinations. 

It  is  not  improbable  in  this  connection  that  the 
practical  physician  led  the  footsteps  of  the  speculative 
chemist.  Alcmaeon,  who  preceded  Empedocles  by  about 
half  a  century,  has  already  familiarized  us  with  the  theory 
that  illnesses  are  caused  by  the  conflict  or  disproportion  of 
the  heterogeneous  elements  contained  in  the  animal  body. 
It  was  a  doctrine  which  had  taken  firm  hold  in  medical 
circles  at  least,  and  which  was  used,  according  to  Polybus, 
in  a  passage  quoted  above,*  as  a  chief  weapon  against 
material  monism.  But  apart  from  the  attack  from  this 
quarter,  that  doctrine  was  obviously  not  well  suited  to  give 
an  exact  account  of  the  phenomena.  No  one  can  fail  to 
perceive  that  with  the  progress  of  the  study  of  nature  the 
vague  process  of  generalization  was  bound  to  defer  more 
and  more  to  detailed  investigation  and  research.  The  old 
Ionian  philosophers,  with  the  honourable  exception  of 
Anaximenes,  had  acquiesced  in  an  indefinite  "transform- 
ism  "  which  rested  neither  on  well  ascertained  facts  nor  yet 
on  precise  reflection  ;  and  when  its  defects  had  been  exposed, 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  init. 


DOCTRINE    OF  FOUR   ELEMENTS.  23 1 

no  second  alternative  remained  but  to  refer  the  plurality 
of  phenomena  to  an  original  plurality  of  material  substances. 
Anaxagoras,  the  older  contemporary  and  intellectual  con- 
gener of  Empedocles,  approached  the  new  task  of  philosophy 
in  a  spirit  of  defiance.  He  threw  away  the  wine  with  the 
lees,  rejecting  at  a  single  stroke  all  differences  between 
the  elements  and  the  substances  derived  from  them,  thus 
returning  for  the  nonce  to  the  infancy  of  human  thought. 
But  Empedocles  took  a  less  violent  method.  In  rejecting 
the  single  element  he  did  not  throw  overboard  the  whole 
theory  of  elements.  He  may  have  learnt  to  appreciate 
the  value  of  compromise  in  the  school  of  practical  politics, 
and  this  experience  may  have  saved  him  from  the  error 
of  the  rigid  "  this  or  that  " — either  one  primary  element  or 
nothing  but  primary  elements.  The  problem  was  to  secure 
a  plurality  of  fundamental  elements,  and  in  order  to  gain 
this  end  it  was  sufficient  to  join  together  the  doctrines 
of  Thales,  Anaximenes,  and  Heraclitus  ;  or,  to  speak  more 
precisely,  it  was  sufficient  to  take  a  comprehensive  view 
of  the  popular  system  of  physics  which  lay  at  the  root  of 
the  teaching  of  those  philosophers,  and  in  accordance 
with  its  tenets,  to  combine  the  Earth  with  Air,  Fire,  and 
Water.  The  "  four  elements "  which  compose  and  pre- 
serve the  world,  now  surviving  merely  in  folklore  and 
poetry,  have  a  long  and  glorious  history.  Aristotle 
embodied  them  in  his  theory  of  nature,  and  his  authority 
sped  them  over  the  stream  of  the  centuries,  and  impressed 
on  the  doctrine  the  stamp  of  unimpeachability.  Never- 
theless it  was  devoid  from  the  start  of  all  intrinsic  justifi- 
cation. It  obviously  rests  on  the  crudest  possible  confusion, 
for  we  shall  hardly  be  asked  to  prove  that  it  reverts  in 
the  last  instance  to  the  distinction  of  the  three  states  of 
aggregation — the  solid,  fluid,  and  gaseous — and  that  the 
fourth  element  which  was  added  to  these  fundamental 
states  was  the  mere  accessory  of  a  process,  and  was 
nothing  but  the  phenomenon,  so  dazzling  to  the  senses, 
which  accompanies  combustion.  The  mistake  was  to  re- 
gard the  fundamental  forms  of  substance  as  homogeneous 
kinds  and  as  the  only  fundamental  kinds  of  substance. 


232  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Despite  these  objections,  the  merit  of  the  doctrine  was 
incalculable.  The  value  of  a  doctrine  in  the  history  of 
science  is  not  always  commensurate  with  its  degree  of 
objective  truth.  A  theory  may  be  wholly  true,  and  yet 
the  unpreparedness  of  human  understanding  may  make 
it  useless  and  abortive,  whereas  a  second  theory,  though 
wholly  untrue,  may  render  abundant  service  to  the  progress 
of  knowledge  precisely  on  account  of  that  stage  of  intellectual 
development.  In  the  age  with  which  we  are  dealing,  and 
far  beyond  its  confines,  the  doctrine  of  a  single  primary 
matter  belongs  to  the  first-named  category  of  ineffectual 
theories  ;  in  the  same  era  and  in  those  immediately 
succeeding  to  it  the  doctrine  of  the  four  elements  belongs 
to  the  second  of  our  categories.  We  may  make  as  many 
deductions  from  the  truth  of  the  doctrine  as  we  choose  ; 
we  may  explain  that  no  one  of  the  elements  was  a  genuine 
element  ;  that  Water,  which  had  the  best  claim  to  that 
title,  was  a  compound  combination  ;  that  Earth  and  Air,  on 
the  contrary,  were  each  but  a  single  name  for  countless 
material  substances  partly  simple  and  partly  complex,  each 
respectively  in  but  one  of  its  phenomenal  shapes  ;  and  we 
may  discreetly  pass  over  the  nonentity  of  the  element  of 
Fire  ;  still,  this  pseudo-science  was,  as  it  were,  the  bud  from 
which  the  true  flower  of  science  was  to  unfold,  A  model 
was  given  which  represented  the  fundamental  conceptions 
of  chemistry,  and  from  which  alone  those  conceptions 
could  be  derived.  If  philosophy  had  waited  to  form  the 
conceptions  of  elements  and  combinations  till  it  had 
become  familiar  with  real  elements  and  real  combinations 
of  the  same,  it  might  have  waited  for  ever.  For  the  goal 
of  the  theory  of  matter,  like  that  of  astronomy  itself,  was 
only  to  be  reached  by  paths  of  error.*  The  reflections 
of  Empedocles  in  this  connection  were  as  correct  as  their 
application  was  misleading.  He  was  as  reluctant  as  any 
of  his  predecessors  to  recognize  an  absolute  beginning  and 
end,  and,  moreover,  he  surpassed  his  predecessors  in  the 
clear  grasp  which  he  obtained  of  the  positive  counterpart 
of  those  negations.  To  him,  as  to  Anaxagoras,  each 
♦  Bk.  I.  Ch.  IV.  §  I  (pp.  114,115). 


PROPORTIONAL    COMBINATIONS.  233 

apparent  beginning  was  really  "  only  a  mixture,"  each 
apparent  end  a  mere  separation  of  the  mixture.  But  he 
leaves  Anaxagoras  behind  in  his  perception  and  statement 
of  the  fact  that  the  sensible  qualities  of  a  compound 
depend  on  the  manner  in  which  it  is  composed.  His  first 
hint  of  this  perception  is  contained  in  a  remarkably 
significant  simile.  To  illustrate  the  endless  multiplicity  of 
qualities  which  objects  offer  to  our  senses,  he  recalled  the 
process  that  is  constantly  at  work  on  the  artist's  palette. 
He  compared  his  four  primary  substances  with  the  four 
primary  colours  used  by  the  artists  of  his  day,  from  the 
mixed  proportions  of  which  were  derived  the  countless 
shades  and  gradations  of  hue.  It  may  be  urged  that  this 
is  a  mere  simile,  and  not  an  explanation,  but  it  is  a  simile 
which  at  least  contains  some  of  the  elements  of  an  expla- 
nation. It  brings  one  important  fact  very  clearly  to  light, 
that  a  merely  quantitative  difference  in  a  compound  of 
two  or  more  elements  causes  a  qualitative  difference  in  its 
sensible  qualities.  It  is  not  a  mere  matter  of  inference 
that  Empedocles  was  master  of  this  fact ;  it  may  be 
directly  proved  by  the  testimony  of  his  own  writings.  For 
with  a  venturesomeness  which  reacted  on  the  details  of 
the  experiment,  he  attempted  to  reduce  the  qualitative 
differences  in  the  parts  of  the  human  body  to  quantitative 
differences  of  composition.  Thus  flesh  and  blood  were 
supposed  to  contain  equal  parts  of  the  four  elements — 
equal  in  weight,  and  not  in  volume — whereas  the  bones 
were  composed  of  \  Fire  to  \  Earth  and  \  Water.  It 
cannot  be  disputed  that  he  was  obliged  to  employ  this 
aid  to  explanation  in  the  most  comprehensive  fashion, 
otherwise  he  could  never  have  maintained  with  such 
emphasis  the  dependence  of  sensible  qualities  on  the  mode 
of  composition  as  in  the  simile  mentioned  just  now.  The 
four  elements  in  themselves  could  give  but  a  very  small 
number  of  possible  combinations,  viz.  one  four,  four  threes, 
and  six  twos.  But  as  soon  as  the  principle  of  proportional 
combination  was  admitted  the  possible  number  was  infinitely 
extended,  and  the  doctrine  of  Empedocles  rose  to  the 
height    of   its   intention,  and   was   able   to   account   for   a 


234  GREEK   THINKERS. 

really  inexhaustible  variety  of  substances.  And  here 
let  us  pause  to  remark  that  we  are  confronted  with  one 
of  the  most  striking  anticipations  of  the  results  of  modern 
science.  The  chemistry  of  our  century  from  Dalton  down- 
wards is  dominated  by  the  theory  of  proportions  or 
equivalents.  In  the  realm  of  organic  chemistry  in  especial, 
where  the  four  primary  elements  C,  H,  O,  N  completely 
justify  the  comparison  with  the  four  primary  colours 
borrowed  from  ancient  painting,  its  value  is  most  signifi- 
cant, and  in  recent  times  we  owe  to  it  the  discovery  that 
the  number  of  atoms  in  albuminoids,  for  instance,  can  be 
counted  by  their  hundreds. 

3.  Empedocles  is  at  one  with  the  modern  chemist  in 
his  recognition  of  the  changeless  condition  of  the  primary 
elements  side  by  side  with  the  Protean  variation  of  their 
compounds.  But  of  all  the  intermediate  links  in  this  chain 
of  thought  one  alone,  so  far  as  we  are  aware,  was  fully 
grasped  by  Empedocles,  namely,  the  significance  mentioned 
above  of  proportional  quantities  in  combination.  He  may 
have  perceived,  but  he  never  clearly  expressed  his  knowledge 
or  acceptance  of  the  second  and  more  important  fact  that  the 
qualities  of  a  compound  are  affected  by  its  structure,  by  the 
conditions  of  its  parts  in  respect  to  situation  and  movement, 
and  that  a  body  which  is  distinguished  from  another  body 
by  these  conditions  will  exercise  a  different  influence  on 
other  bodies  and  on  our  organs  of  sense.  Yet  we  fancy 
that  Empedocles  must  have  guessed  at  this  fact,  else  he 
must  have  been  content  to  forego  every  explanation  of 
the  circumstance  that  the  elements  in  their  combination 
"  traverse  each  other,"  to  use  his  own  words,  "  and 
show  a  different  face."  And  we  miss  something  else  in 
Empedocles.  We  look  in  vain  in  this  connection  for  the 
full  recognition  and  appreciation  of  the  part  which  is 
played  by  the  subjective  factor  in  our  sense-perceptions, 
though  he  comes  much  nearer  to  it  than  any  of  his  pre- 
decessors except  one.  The  exception  is  Alcma^on,  the 
independent  thinker  and  observer  included  in  the  Pytha- 
gorean circle,  with  whom  time  has  dealt  a  little  hardly. 
Alcmseon    gives    us  the    first  hint  of  subjective  sensible 


\/rHEORY  OF   VISUAL   PERCEPTION.  235 

phenomena,  and  Empedocles,  as  may  be  abundantly  testi- 
fied, followed  in  his  footsteps.  Alcmseon  was  the  first  and 
Empedocles  was  the  second,  and  there  was  no  intermediary 
thinker,  who  represented  the  interior  of  the  eye  as  consisting 
almost  entirely  of  Fire  and  Water.  Hereon  was  based 
the  comparison  of  the  structure  of  the  eye  with  the  making 
of  a  lantern.  The  transparent  plates  to  protect  the  flame 
from  the  wind  which  might  extinguish  it  correspond  in  the 
eye  to  the  thin  films  covering  the  contents  of  the  orbit, 
which  are  partly  of  a  fiery  and  partly  of  a  watery  nature. 
Next  came  the  principle,  probably  derived  from  the 
analogy  of  the  sense  of  touch  and  resistance,  that  like  is 
recognized  by  like,  and  in  accordance  therewith  the  fiery 
parts  of  the  eye  were  to  recognize  external  fire,  and  the 
watery  parts  external  water,  those  two  elements  being  taken 
as  the  types  of  light  and  darkness.  The  act  of  perception 
was  accomplished  as  follows.  At  the  approach  of  fiery  or 
watery  effluvia  from  the  substances,  fiery  or  watery  par- 
ticles went  out  to  meet  them  from  the  funnel-shaped  pores 
of  the  eye.  The  meeting  was  caused  by  the  mutual  attrac- 
tion of  similar  materials,  and  the  perception  was  brought 
about  by  the  contact  of  the  particles  entering  the  pores 
from  without  with  those  quitting  them  from  within  at  a 
point  outside  the  eye,  though  presumably  close  to  its 
surface.  Thus  sight  was  assimilated  to  touch,  light  being 
touched  by  light  and  dark  by  dark,  and  it  depended  on 
which  of  the  two  elements  was  less  strongly  represented, 
and  therefore  more  susceptible  of  its  complement,  in  the 
eyes  of  the  respective  kind  of  animals  or  individuals  whether 
they  were  better  adapted  to  receive  colour-impressions 
and  to  see  clearly  by  daylight  or  by  dusk.  This  view 
of  the  mechanism  and  the  process  of  the  act  of  sight 
is  crude  and  fanciful  enough.  It  does  not  even  explain 
what  it  professes  to  explain,  and  countless  questions  arise 
to  which  it  does  not  pretend  to  give  an  answer.  Still  it 
possesses  one  undisputed  merit.  It  was  an  attempt,  how- 
ever inadequate,  to  explain  perception  by  intermediate 
processes.*  It  was  an  attempt,  moreover,  which  admitted, 
*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  III.  §2. 


236  GREEK    THINKERS. 

however  reluctantly,  the  subjective  factor,  thus  completing 
one  stage  of  the  journey  whose  ultimate  goal  it  is  to  recog- 
nize that  our  sense-perceptions  are  anything  rather  than 
the  mere  reflections  of  exterior  objective  qualities  of  things. 
Further,  this  theory  of  Empedocles  did  not  wholly  reject 
the  principle  of  relativity.  We  saw  that  the  increased  mass 
of  the  fiery  or  watery  matter  contained  in  different  eyes 
was  to  explain  the  differences  of  perception,  and  we  may 
add  that  the  shape  and  size  of  the  pores  were  here,  as  in 
other  instances  of  sensation,  to  permit  or  prevent  the  entry 
of  the  "  effluvia."  Such  effluvia  alone  as  corresponded  with 
the  pores  were  regarded  as  perceptible.  Thus  error  once 
more  was  justified  of  its  offspring,  and  this  erroneous  theory 
smoothed  the  way  for  a  true  insight  into  the  nature  of 
sense-perception.  The  old  stumbling-block  which  left  the 
human  intelligence  no  choice  save  between  a  blind  accept- 
ance and  an  equally  blind  rejection  of  the  evidence  of  sense 
receded  further  and  further  in  the  distance.  That  evidence 
was  more  carefully  guarded  against  the  objections  arising 
from  individual  or  temporary  differences  of  impression,  and 
thus  the  knowledge  derived  from  this  source  was  at  once 
restricted  to  narrower  limits  and  more  firmly  secured 
within  them. 

4.  Empedocles  displays  in  the  rest  of  his  allied  doctrines 
the  same  merits  and  defects  as  in  his  physiology  of  sense. 
They  exhibit  a  common  tendency  to  reduce  the  physical 
and  psychical  phenomena  of  the  human,  animal,  and 
vegetable  worlds  to  universal  natural  processes.  The 
barriers  between  the  organic  and  inorganic,  between  the 
conscious  and  unconscious,  were  to  be  destroyed  ;  better 
still,  they  were  never  to  be  erected  or  completed.  It  was 
at  once  the  strength  and  weakness  of  our  philosopher  that 
he  looked  so  deeply  into  the  unity  of  all  natural  and 
spiritual  life.  It  was  his  weakness  because  his  com- 
prehensive generalizations  rested  rather  on  a  neglect  of 
differences  than  on  the  evidence  of  likeness  in  difference, 
and  because  the  experiment  is  fully  as  crude  and  pre- 
mature as  the  kindred  attempt  of  Anaxagoras.*  The 
*  Cp.  Bk,  II.  Ch.  IV.  §  I. 


ATTRACTION yOF  LIKE   BY  LIKE.  237 

perception  that  made  the  deepest  impression  on  the  mind 
of  Empedocles  was  that  of  the  mutual  attraction  of  like 
by  like.  This  doctrine  applied  equally  to  the  masses 
of  homogeneous  matter,  earth,  air,  clouds,  and  sea,  as  to 
the  parallel  observation,  taken  from  social  life  and  raised 
to  the  dignity  of  a  proverb,  "  like  to  like."  On  the  other 
hand,  the  attraction  depending  on  the  difference  of  sex  was 
but  little  taken  in  account,  and  the  natural  phenomena 
with  which  we  have  been  familiarized  by  the  doctrine 
of  electricity,  and  which  contradict  this  principle  of 
attraction,  were  unknown  at  that  time.  Thus  there 
was  nothing  to  prevent  the  constant  and  general  appli- 
cation of  this  so-called  universal  law.  At  one  time  it 
was  used  to  explain  the  growth  of  plants  ;  at  another  the 
origin  of  the  human  race,  and  in  both  cases  the  fire  in 
the  interior  of  the  earth  was  supposed  to  yearn  towards 
the  external  fire,  and  thus  impel  to  the  surface  and  beyond 
it  the  various  forms  of  vegetable  life  and  the  yet  un- 
formed human  "lumps"  consisting  of  earth  and  water. 
Another  illustration  may  be  taken  from  the  phenomenon 
of  breath.  Respiration  was  due,  according  to  the  doctrine 
of  Empedocles,  to  the  fire  in  the  living  organism  which 
was  impelled  by  the  same  force  to  drive  out  the  air 
contained  therein,  and  thus  to  bring  about  expiration. 
A  further  point  to  be  noticed  is  that  the  dwelling-place 
of  the  various  kinds  of  animals  is  determined,  no  less 
than  the  rest  of  their  qualities,  by  the  same  fundamental 
principle  of  the  predominance  of  a  single  element  in  each. 
Animals  full  of  air  seek  the  air,  those  full  of  water  make 
for  the  water,  and  those  with  a  preponderance  of  earth 
in  their  composition  have  a  natural  bias  to  the  earth. 
The  perception  of  like  by  like  ranks  as  a  universal  rule 
applicable  not  merely  to  the  region  of  sense-perception, 
as  we  have  already  seen,  but  to  the  realm  of  thought 
itself.  In  the  theory  of  sight  which  we  have  just 
examined  we  saw  that  like  required  to  be  completed 
by  like,  and  the  same  principle  was  taken  to  govern  all 
manifestations  of  desire,  such  as  that  of  hunger,  for 
instance,   and    to    account    no    less    for    the   sensation    of 


238  GREEK    THINKERS. 

pleasure  in  the  satisfaction  of  desire  than  for  that  of 
pain  in  its  non-satisfaction.  Such  doctrines,  of  course, 
were  one-sided  and  partly  fanciful,  but  we  cannot  escape 
the  impression  of  grandeur  which  they  create,  recalling 
to  our  memory  the  breadth  of  the  Heraclitean  philosophy. 
Still,  there  is  something  refreshing  in  the  occasional 
interruption  of  these  monotonous  elucidatory  endeavours 
by  a  genuine  observation  of  nature,  however  imperfectly 
it  may  have  been  applied.  We  come  across  an  obser- 
vation of  this  kind,  or,  to  speak  more  correctly,  across  a 
truth  ascertained  by  experiment,  in  the  account  of  the 
breathing,  or  exhalation,  which  takes  place  through  the  skin. 
Empedocles  employed  in  this  connection  a  very  apt 
illustration.  He  took  the  case  of  a  bottle  held  mouth 
downwards  in  a  basin  of  water  with  a  finger  closely 
pressed  against  the  opening,  and  remarked  that  even 
after  the  removal  of  the  finger  the  bottle  would  not  fill 
with  water,  though  in  other  circumstances  it  would  be 
flooded  forthwith  ;  and  he  was  quite  clear  on  the  point 
that  it  was  the  air  which  had  been  prevented  from 
escaping  from  the  bottle  that  kept  the  water  from  enter- 
ing. In  the  same  way,  so  he  argued,  external  air  could 
only  enter  the  body  when  the  blood  had  receded  from 
the  surface  and  had  welled  back  to  the  inner  organs. 
The  regular  consecution  of  this  tidal  process  of  the  blood 
accounted,  according  to  his  doctrine,  for  the  exhalation 
through  the  pores  of  the  skin.  We  see  that  Empedocles 
ascribed  very  considerable  influence  to  this  pretended 
universal  law  of  the  attraction  of  like  by  like.  At  the 
same  time  he  could  not  possibly  have  regarded  it  as 
the  only  regulating  principle.  He  must  have  sought 
some  explanation  of  the  origin  and  self-preservation  of 
organic  beings,  each  of  which  he  perceived  to  contain 
more  than  one  of  the  four  elements  or  all  the  four  at 
once.  Hence  he  conceived,  in  the  tendency  of  like  to 
separate  from  like  and  of  unlike  to  combine  with  unlike,  a 
second  principle  precisely  contrary  to  the  first  to  check 
and  control  its  operations.  The  existing  order  of  things 
represented     a    kind    of    compromise    between    the    two 


''FRIENDSHIP''   AND   '/DISCORD:'  239 

natural  causes.     The   origin  of  each    individual   was  due 
to  the  operation  of  the  second  tendency  ;  its  nourishment, 
especially  in  the  Empedoclean  sense  which  we  noticed  just 
now,  and  its  dissolution  of  earth  to  earth,  air  to  air,  and  so 
forth,  were  due  unmistakably  to  the  first.      At  this  point 
we  must  revert  for  a  moment  to  the  teaching  of  Anaximander 
and  Anaxagoras  about  the  differentiation   of  matter  and 
the  separation  of  the  elements.      Those  philosophers  had 
taught  that  such  processes  were  not  primeval,  but  that  they 
were  preceded  in  time  by  a  condition  of  complete  homo- 
geneity of  matter  in  which  the  individual  substances  were 
either  not  yet  differentiated  or  were  thoroughly  mixed  and 
combined.     Now,  by  adopting  this  belief,  whether  at  the 
hands  of  his  predecessors   or   by  his   own  investigations, 
Empedocles  reached  a  point  in  time  at  which  one  of  the 
two    fundamental    tendencies    in    all    natural    life   would 
have    reigned    in    solitary   splendour.     That  was  the  time 
when   the    attraction    of   like    by  like   was   entirely   out- 
weighed by  the  rival  principle  of  the  attraction  of  unlikes. 
Having    reached    that    point,    the   symmetry   of  thought 
would  have  rendered  it  practically  necessary  to  provide  a 
similar   period  of  solitary   reign    for   the   first   and    more 
powerful  principle.     Finally,  Empedocles,  following  in  the 
footsteps    of   Anaximander,    Heraclitus,    and    at    least    a 
proportion    of    the    Pythagoreans,*     and     regarding     all 
phenomena  as  cyclical   in   character,  would  not  have  con- 
sidered the  succession  of  these  two  epochs  of  the  world 
as  having  taken  place   once   for   all,  but  as   a  constantly 
recurring  alternation  of  such  periods.     This,  in   fact,  was 
his  teaching,  and   he    selected    as    its  vehicles   a   couple 
of    forces,  working    in    consecutive  epochs    of    temporary 
superiority.        These     powers     dominated    matter    under 
the  names  of  "  Friendship  "  and  "  Discord."     It    was    the 
part    of     the    first    to     combine     and     unite    substances 
of    different     natures,    whereas     Discord,    as   soon    as    its 
turn  arrived,  broke  those   bonds   of  union    and    left    the 
elements  free  to  obey  their   natural   tendency  of  like   to 
like.      It  was   not  supposed  that  each  of  the  two  powers 
*  J'>k.  I.  Ch.  V.  §  4. 


240  GREEK   THINKERS. 

vanquished  the  other  suddenly  or  at  one  blow.  The 
steady  conflict  went  on  during  each  of  the  successive 
periods,  and  one  by  one  they  obtained  the  mastery,  till 
the  weaker  in  each  instance  was  gradually  supplanted,  and 
then  devoted  itself  again  to  recuperative  efforts  with  a  view 
to  reversing  the  victory.  Thus  Empedocles  distinguished  in 
the  ebb  and  flow  of  this  movement  between  two  eras  of 
rise  and  decay,  first,  the  triumph  of  Friendship  and  the 
ensuing  growth  of  Discord ;  next,  the  triumph  of  Discord  and 
the  growth  of  Friendship.  We  have  tried  to  give  a  correct 
account  of  the  nature  of  this  conception,  but  there  is 
still  one  feature  which  calls  for  further  remark.  There 
is  something  eminently  characteristic  of  the  deep  insight 
into  nature  which  distinguished  Empedocles  in  the 
gradual  method  of  transition  by  which  he  conceived 
the  supremacy  to  pass  from  one  power  to  the  other. 
It  manifests  his  incredulous  attitude  towards  sudden 
and  immediate  changes  and  his  view  of  their  continuity 
as  a  fundamental  law  of  the  universe.  Taking  the 
successive  periods  as  the  zenith  and  the  nadir,  then  the 
first,  when  Friendship  is  at  its  height,  will  correspond  to 
a  condition  of  things  which  we  may  compare  with  the 
primeval  "confusion"  of  Anaxagoras  and  its  analogue  in 
Anaximander.  An  immense  sphere  contains  the  elements, 
which  are  molten  and  mingled  in  indiscriminate  chaos. 
The  zenith  of  Discord  presents  us  with  quite  a  contrary 
picture.  The  four  fundamental  types  of  matter  will  be 
almost  completely  sundered  from  one  another,  and  will  be 
gathered  separately  in  a  conglomerate  mass  before  our 
eyes.  But  the  attention  of  Empedocles  was  chiefly 
directed  to  the  problem  of  organic  life,  and  this  can 
neither  begin  nor  prosper  at  one  or  the  other  culminating 
point  of  the  successive  periods.  For  each  organism  is 
composed  of  several  elements  combined  with  one  another 
in  varying  proportions.  Such  elements  exist,  in  the 
external  world  from  which  the  organism  derives  its 
nourishment,  in  a  state  of  at  least  partial  separation — 
or  rather  easily  separable — but  at  the  same  time  they  must 
be  capable  of  combining  with   one   another.     At    neither 


COSMOLOGY   OF  ^MPEDOCLES.  24 1 

of  the  two  culminating  points  are  both  conditions  present 
at  once  ;  the  first  is  wanting  when  Friendship  has  the 
upper  hand,  and  the  second  in  the  reign  of  Discord. 
They  are  never  found  in  conjunction  except  in  the  two 
transitional  stages  which  divide  the  extremes  of  cosmic 
evolution.  Thus  organic  life  can  only  originate  and 
flourish  at  the  two  focal  points  where  the  streams  of 
tendency  cross  each  other ;  and  as  soon  as  one  or  other 
of  the  upward  movements  reaches  its  goal  or  zenith,  organic 
life  will  always  be  annihilated. 

5.  We  have  now  briefly  to  advert  to  the  details  of  the 
Empedoclean  cosmology.  Neither  by  its  virtues  nor  by 
its  faults  has  its  influence  been  considerable,  and  our  in- 
formation in  this  respect  is,  moreover,  defective.  We  can 
but  suggest  a  conjectural  answer  to  the  question  whether 
our  philosopher  regarded  the  earth  as  round  or  cylindrical  in 
shape.  He  agreed  with  Anaxagoras  in  supposing  that  the 
quality  of  order  or  "  cosmos  "  had  hitherto  been  acquired 
by  a  part  only  of  primeval  matter.  At  the  period  when 
friendship  was  at  its  zenith,  the  communion  and  com- 
minglement  of  the  elements  lent  it  the  shape  of  a 
motionless  ball  which  was  invested  with  the  attributes  of 
personality  and  bliss  under  the  name  of  Sphairos. 
Material  separation  began,  according  to  a  verse  of  Empe- 
docles,  with  a  severance  of  "  the  heavy  "  and  "  the  light," 
and  it  is  legitimate  to  conjecture  that  the  mechanical 
agent  was  a  kind  of  whirlwind  which  collected  the  heavier 
matter,  consisting  of  mixed  earth  and  water,  in  the  central 
spot  which  is  now  our  own  place  of  habitation.  One  point 
remains  obscure.  We  are  unable  to  identify  the  original 
motive  in  this  process,  which  made  it  possible  for  "all 
the  limbs  of  the  god  to  move  in  turn."  Fire  first,  and 
a  portion  of  the  air,  escaped  upwards.  The  air  was 
supposed  to  have  been  fastened  to  the  crystalline  vault  of 
heaven  under  the  influence  of  fire,  and  to  have  acquired  a 
kind  of  glaze.  The  remaining  central  mass  soon  came  to 
a  standstill,  but  the  regions  round  the  earth  continued 
their  rotatory  movement,  and  their  pressure  squeezed  the 
water  out  of  the  quiescent  mass.     Meantime  the  heavenly 

VOL.   I.  R 


242  GREEK   THINKERS. 

fire  drew  the  air  that  still  remained  for  some  unknown 
reason  in  this  sea  or  "  sweat  of  the  earth  "  by  the  process 
of  evaporation.  The  problem  suggests  itself  why  the  earth 
should  have  stood  still,  and  why  it  should  not  have  sunk 
downwards,  and  Empedocles  met  his  questioners  by  an 
argument  from  analogy  which,  if  it  failed  to  do  anything 
else,  would  at  least  excite  our  admiration  for  the  vivid  and 
mobile  genius  by  which  he  united  the  most  discrepant 
conceptions.  While  he  was  groping  about  to  explain  the 
apparent  quiescence  of  the  earth,  he  remembered  by  a 
happy  inspiration  a  trick  as  familiar  in  the  fairs  of 
antiquity  as  in  those  of  this  day.  Several  goblets  are 
filled  with  water  or  with  some  other  fluid,  and  are  then 
tied  to  a  hoop  with  their  open  mouths  pointing  inwards. 
The  hoop  is  then  set  in  swift  rotation,  and  the  essence  of 
the  trick  is  that  the  water  does  not  escape.  Empedocles 
seized  on  this  mountebank's  exploit  for  the  solution  of  his 
problem.  Set  the  goblets  revolving  quickly,  and  their 
contents  will  not  escape ;  set  the  firmament  revolving 
quickly,  and  the  earth  at  its  centre  will  not  slip.  Empe- 
docles was  content  with  this  analogy,  though  it  provokes 
a  smile  to-day  and  is  hardly  intelligible  at  first  sight.  We 
know  that  the  fluid  is  constantly  impelled  to  the  bottom 
of  the  goblet,  and  its  attempts  to  escape  are  counteracted 
by  centrifugal  force.  But  that  force  could  never  have  been 
brought  into  play  if  the  fluid  itself  had  not  been  made  to 
rotate  together  with  the  goblet  that  contained  it,  and  we 
ask  with  surprise  how  any  one  could  have  come  to 
compare  the  relative  quiescence  of  the  fluid  with  the 
presumptive  absolute  quiescence  of  the  earth.  But  Em- 
pedocles was  not  in  possession  of  that  causal  insight. 
In  both  cases  he  regarded  the  smaller  force  and  velocity 
of  the  downward  tendency  as  overcome  by  the  "  quicker  " 
rotatory  movement.  Empedocles,  we  must  remember,  was 
a  warm-blooded  Sicilian,  whose  brilliant  intellect  was  dis- 
tinguished by  breadth  rather  than  by  depth  of  thought. 
He  had  a  keen  scent  for  analogies,  and  the  mistake  he 
made  in  this  instance  was  characteristic  of  his  hasty  con- 
clusions.    He  explained  the  alternation  of  day  and  night 


V  HIS    THEORY  OF  ORGANIC  LIFE.  243 

by  the  revolution  of  the  firmament,  which  consisted  in 
his  theory  of  two  hemispheres,  the  one  light  and  the 
other  dark.  Furthermore,  the  sun  was  not  conceived  as 
shining  by  its  own  light,  but  as  a  kind  of  glass-like  body 
absorbing  and  reflecting  the  light  of  ether.  In  this 
doctrine  Empedocles  may  have  given  a  lead  to  the 
younger  Pythagoreans.*  He  agreed  with  Anaxagoras  in 
supposing  that  the  light  of  the  moon  was  borrowed  from 
the  sun,  and,  further,  in  his  correct  explanation  of  the 
eclipses  of  the  two  luminaries.  He  agreed  with  Alcmaeon 
in  distinguishing  between  the  fixed  stars,  literally  fixed  in 
heaven,  and  the  freely  moving  planets.  At  this  point, 
however,  we  may  leave  his  meteorological  speculations. 
They  were  partly  correct  and  generally  ingenious,  but  we 
may  return  more  profitably  to  his  theories  about  organic 
life  and  its  origin. 

6.  Two  modes  were  suggested  for  the  beginnings  of 
organic  being.  On  the  one  which  rests  on  the  progress 
of  the  separation  of  the  elements  our  information  is  in- 
complete ;  we  have  already  made  acquaintance  with  the 
shapeless  lumps  from  which  mankind  was  later  to  be 
formed,  and  which  constitute  the  sole  reference  to  this 
aspect  of  the  question.  When  wc  come  to  the  gradual 
and  continuous  perfection  of  the  forms  of  animal  and 
vegetable  life  under  the  sign  of  "  Friendship,"  our  authority 
is  fuller.  The  vegetable  world  was  supposed  to  have 
preceded  the  animal,  and  to  have  belonged  to  a  period 
anterior  to  the  present  inclination  of  the  axis  of  the  earth 
— a  detail  which  once  more  reminds  us  of  Anaxagoras. 
The  belief  that  the  less  perfect  preceded  the  more  perfect 
is  the  guiding  thought  of  his  zoogony,  which,  fanciful  as  it 
was,  was  yet  not  wholly  devoid  of  scientific  significance. 
First  of  all,  single  limbs  were  supposed  to  have  sprung 
from  the  earth — "heads,"  for  instance,  "without  neck  and 
trunk,"  "  arms  without  shoulders,"  and  "  eyes  without  a 
face."  Some  of  these  fragmentary  creatures  were  bound 
together  by  Friendship,  others  were  driven  to  and  fro  in  a 
solitary  condition,  unable  to  effect  a  landing  and  gain  a 
*   Cp.  l)k.  I.  Ch.  IV.  §  2. 


L>44  GREEK   THINKERS. 

foothold  on   the   "shore  of  life."      Whenever    such    com- 
binations took  place,  all  kinds  of  monsters  would  be  created, 
"  double-headed    and     double-breasted    beings,"    "  human 
forms  with  heads  of  bulls,"  "bodies  of  bulls  with  human 
heads,"  and  so  forth.     These  grotesque  shapes  disappeared 
as  quickly  as  the  original  separate  limbs,  and   only  such 
combinations    as    exhibited    an    inner    harmony    evinced 
themselves  as  fit  for  life,  maintained  a  permanent   place, 
and  finally  multiplied  by  procreation.     It  is  impossible  not 
to  be  reminded  here  of  the  Darwinian  survival  of  the  fittest. 
There  is  nothing  to  prevent  and  everything  to  favour  the 
belief  that  we  are  confronted  with  an  attempt,  as  crude  as 
it  could  be,  but  yet  not  entirely  unworthy  of  respect,  to 
explain  in  a   natural  way  the  problem  of   design   in   the 
organic  world.    Empedocles  used  the  processes  of  vegetable 
and  animal  life  as  the  favourite  playground  of  his  genius 
for  research.     Gleams  of  inspiration  are  crossed  by  glimpses 
of  childish  impertinence  in  which  the  philosopher   fondly 
expects  to  rob  nature  of  her  veil  before  he  has  learnt  the 
A  B  C  of  renunciation.     Among  the   inspired   utterances 
we  may  quote  the  saying  that  "hair  and  foliage  and  the 
thick  plumage  of  birds  are  one."     It  is  a  thought  which 
makes  Empedocles  a  predecessor  of  Goethe  in  the  realm 
of  comparative  morphology,  and  though  its  author  hardly 
used  it,  it  was  yet  a  fresh  contribution  towards  the  theory 
of  descent.     The  child  in  Empedocles  must  answer  for  the 
fantastic  attempts  to  explain  the   deepest  secrets  of  pro- 
creation— the    birth    of    male    or    female    offspring,    their 
resemblance  to  the  father  or  the   mother,  the  production 
of  twins    or   triplets,  the   shocks    sustained    by    pregnant 
women    and   their  supposed   relation    to    birthmarks,   the 
origin  of  monstrosities,  and  the  sterility  of   mules.      Less 
fanciful  was   his   conception   of  sleep  as   a  partial,  and  of 
death  as  a  total,  chilling  of  the  blood. 

We  have  already  directed  attention  to  the  links  by 
which  the  Empedoclean  theory  of  matter  is  closely  united 
with  his  theory  of  cognition.  We  have  made  acquaintance 
with  his  maxim  that  like  is  recognized  by  like,  "  earth  by 
earth,  water  by  water,  divine   ether  by  ether,  destructive 


EMPEDOCLES  AND   HYLOZOISM,  245 

fire  by  fire,"  and  the  conjecture   lay  ready  to   hand    that 
Empedocles  regarded  matter  itself  as  endowed  with  con- 
sciousness, and  that  he  drew  no  strict  distinction  between 
the  animate  and  the  inanimate  worlds.     The  conjecture  is 
justified  by  the  facts.     Empedocles  did  not  merely  follow 
Anaxagoras    in    ascribing    sensibility   to    plants,    but    he 
taught  that,  without  exception,  "everything  possesses  the 
power  of  thought  and  a  share  in  understanding."    Attempts 
have   been    made   to   divide  Empedocles  from  his  prede- 
cessors,  the    Hylozoists,    and    even    to   represent    him    as 
opposed  to  them  in  principle,  on  account  of  his   doctrine 
of  the   two    immaterial    forces   causing  the   succession   of 
universal   periods.      That    doctrine,  it  must   be   admitted, 
introduced  a  dualistic  germ  in   his   system,   but    it   never 
took   root   nor   made  any  growth,  and  we   are   now   in   a 
position  to  see  how  completely  erroneous  these   attempts 
were.      For    beside  the    two    alternately    ruling   powers, 
and    superior    to    them,    there   was,    as    our   readers     are 
aware,    a    single    natural    force    of    truly   universal    sway 
inherent    to    matter    itself — the    attraction     of     like     to 
like.     Next,  there  is  the  extraordinary  power  of  thought 
which  he  ascribed  to  matter,  and  the  universal  extension 
of  the  franchise  of  consciousness.     The  doctrine  of  Em- 
pedocles might  be  called  Hylozoism   in  excelsis.     It  gave 
to    matter  not   merely  life,  but  a  soul.     And  there    is    a 
second  point  to  be  mentioned  in  contravention  of  the  view 
that   Empedocles   regarded    matter   as   something    dreary 
and  dead,  responsive  to  outside  impulses  alone,  but  not  as 
the  seat  of  motion  in  itself.     If  this  had  been  his  opinion 
by  no  conceivable  right  could  he  have  given  to  his   four 
elements  the  names  of  gods,  and  of  gods,  moreover,  who, 
like    Hera   and    Zeus,  occupied  the  highest  places   in  the 
Greek  Pantheon.     It  has  been  urged  that  this  was  nothing 
but  a  poetic  licence  without  any  serious  meaning.     But  we 
are  not  convinced  by  that  argument.     The  author  of  a  new 
theory,  in    our   opinion,  is   commonly  fully   aware   of  the 
innovation    he    is    making,  and  of  its  contrast  with  older 
doctrines ;    he    tends    rather    to    emphasize   those   features 
than  to  weaken  and  destroy  their  force  by  clothing  them 


246  GREEK    THINKERS, 

in  antiquated  forms.  Further,  it  may  be  noticed  that 
Aristotle  at  least  took  those  names  as  signifying  some- 
thing more  than  mere  rhetorical  devices.  He  expressly 
states  of  the  Empedoclean  elements  that  "these,  too,  are 
gods  to  him."  But  without  enumerating  these  more  or 
less  secondary  arguments,  we  need  but  refer  to  the  verse 
quoted  above,  in  which  the  problem  whether  its  author  was 
or  was  not  a  champion  of  the  theory  of  universal  anima- 
tion is  decided  once  and  for  all.  And  if  any  shadow  of 
doubt  should  yet  remain,  it  will  be  allayed  by  the  following 
consideration.  We  remember  that  the  recurring  triumph 
of  "  Friendship  "  which  united  the  aggregate  of  matter  to 
indivisible  unity  raised  it  each  time  to  the  highest  divine 
honours  under  the  name  of  Sphairos  ;  and  we  are  unable 
to  believe  that  the  mere  fact  of  combination  could  have 
endowed  with  consciousness,  filled  with  force,  and  exalted 
to  divine  bliss  substances  which  in  their  separate  condition 
were  dead,  powerless,  inert,  and  responsive  merely  to 
impulses  from  without.  And  our  belief  is  the  less  con- 
strained since  the  Sicilian  philosopher  was  here  a 
strict  logician,  and  maintained  his  fundamental  theory 
in  its  ultimate  consequences.  Thus,  though  he  would  doubt- 
less have  been  inclined  to  ascribe  every  kind  of  cognition 
to  this  "  most  blessed  god,"  yet  the  divinity  was  found 
wanting  in  one  respect.  He  lacked  the  knowledge  of 
"  Discord,"  inasmuch  as  Discord  was  foreign  to  the  pious 
peace  of  his  universe.  For  not  merely  was  each  element 
perceived  and  recognized  by  that  same  element,  but 
"  Friendship "  was  recognized  "  by  Friendship,"  and 
"  Discord  by  horrid  Discord." 

7.  We  have  eulogized  Empedocles  on  account  of  his 
consistency,  but  when  we  come  to  his  psychological 
teaching  it  would  seem  that  our  praise  must  be  recalled. 
It  was  dualistic  in  character.  It  comprised  on  the  one  side 
what  is  practically  his  physics  of  the  soul.  Turning  to 
this  first,  we  see  that  he  reduced  the  psychical  to  the 
material  without  exception  and  without  intervention.  He 
did  not  even  postulate  an  intermediate  soul-substance, 
but  he   based   all   differences  of  psychical  properties  and 


PHYSICS   AND    THEOLOGY  OF   THE   SOUL.     247 

functions  on  corresponding  material  differences,  as  well  in 
the  species  of  beings  as  in  individual  beings,  and  in  the 
varying  states  of  the  individual — 

"  E'en  as  the  matter  at  hand,  so  man  increaseth  in  wisdom ;  " 

and — 

"  Ever  as  men  do  change,  there  cometh  in  constant  succession 
One  thought  after  another." 

Every  preferential  endowment  was  traced  by  Empe- 
docles  to  the  wealth  of  material  composition  and  the 
success  of  the  admixture.  Thus  he  explained  the 
superiority  of  organic  beings  to  the  inorganic  creation 
containing  but  a  few  elements  or  one  only.  Thus,  too, 
he  explained  the  superiority  of  individual  gifts,  such  as 
the  pre-eminent  tongue  of  the  orator  and  the  master-hand 
of  the  sculptor.  And  hence,  further,  he  derived  the  adapta- 
tion of  the  blood,  as  that  part  of  the  body  in  which  the 
combination  was  most  complete,  to  be  the  agent  of  the 
highest  functions  of  the  soul.  Empedocles  conceived 
the  blood  welling  forth  from  its  source  in  a  pure  and  un- 
troubled stream  as  displaying  the  four  elements  in  their 
most  equable  proportions.  And  in  this  belief  he  wrote 
that  "the  blood  of  the  heart  is  thought." 

The  other  side  of  the  dualism  we  have  mentioned  is 
found,  if  the  expression  be  permissible,  in  the  Empedoclean 
theology  of  the  soul.  Every  soul  is  a  "  demon "  which 
has  been  thrust  out  of  its  heavenly  home  to  "the 
unamiable  fields,"  "the  joyless  place,"  the  valley  of 
lamentation.  There  it  assumes  the  most  diverse  shapes. 
Empedocles  himself  claimed  to  have  passed  through  the 
metamorphoses  of  a  boy,  a  girl,  a  bush,  a  bird,  and  a  fish. 
The  soul  is  bound  to  that  habitation  by  its  native  guilt, 
especially  of  bloodshed  or  perjury,  and  the  "vagrant  fugitive" 
cannot  return  to  its  original  home,  if  at  all,  till  after  the 
lapse  of  30,000  Mfiui,  or  10,000  years.  We  have  already 
made  acquaintance  with  this  doctrine.  It  is  a  reproduction 
of  the  Orphic- Pythagorean  psychology  depicted  in  glowing 
colours  and  adorned  with  all  the  magic  of  an  inspired  and 
fervid    eloquence ;    and,    appropriately    enough,    we    find 


248  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Empedocles  extending  a  meed  of  eulogy  and  honour  to 
the  "  mighty  mind "  of  Pythagoras,  He  describes  in 
moving  verse  the  fatal  mistakes  to  which  orthodoxy  itself 
may  impel  those  who  are  uninitiated  in  metempsychosis. 
There  was  the  blinded  father,  for  example,  who  was  fain 
to  offer  an  acceptable  sacrifice  to  the  gods  and  slew 
unwittingly  the  son  of  his  own  loins,  thus  preparing  a 
fatal  meal  for  himself  with  the  very  words  of  prayer  on 
his  lips.  Similarly,  sons  devoured  their  mother,  and  not 
till  too  late  did  the  guilty  appeal  to  Death,  who  might 
have  saved  them  from  the  execution  of  their  horrible 
misdeed.  The  road  of  purification  was  a  long  road,  and 
its  steps  were  marked  by  centuries  ;  nor  could  sinful  men 
regain  their  lost  divinity  till  they  had  climbed  the  topmost 
rungs  of  the  ladder  of  earthly  existence  as  seers  or  poets 
or  physicians  or  princes.  Side  by  side  with  the  process 
of  moral  perfection  went  a  series  of  outward  ceremonies, 
initiations,  and  libations,  to  which  Empedocles  devoted 
an  entire  poem  which  was  called  the  book  of  "  Purifica- 
tions." Its  remnants  combine  with  the  fragments  of  his 
three  books  "On  Nature"  to  form  his  literary  bequest. 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  two  parts  of  the  Empedoclean 
psychology,  and  it  may  reasonably  be  asked  how  two 
such  different  doctrines,  which  practically  exclude  each 
other,  could  have  found  a  common  resting-place  in  one 
mind.  It  is  little  or  no  explanation  to  utter  the  word 
Eclecticism.  We  have  seen  that,  apparently,  at  least,  a 
great  gulf  was  fixed  between  the  spiritualistic  doctrine  on 
the  one  side  and  the  materialistic  on  the  other,  and 
if  this  gulf  really  existed  there  are  but  two  conclusions  we 
can  draw.  Either  the  philosopher  himself  must  have  been 
lacking  in  reason  and  judgment  or  he  must  have  counted 
on  finding  those  defects  in  his  readers,  to  whom  he 
offered  this  contradictory  dualism  as  the  expression  of 
his  serious  conviction.  But  in  point  of  fact  there  is  no 
need  for  any  such  desperate  resort.  The  apparent  con- 
tradiction was  partly  non-existent,  and  was  partly  by  no 
means  limited  to  Empedocles.  His  "soul-demon,"  like 
the  "  soul  "  or  psyche  of  most  of  his  predecessors,  was  not 


HOMER'S    TWO- SOUL    THEORY.  249 

the  vehicle  of  psychical  qualities  denoting  an  individual  or 
a  kind  of  beings.*  In  proof  of  this  we  may  quote  his  own 
express  statements  in  the  passages  that  refer  to  his 
previous  existence ;  for  the  bush,  the  bird,  or  the  fish, 
which  he  claimed  to  have  been,  obviously  bore  no  remotest 
resemblance  to  the  richly  dowered  human  personality 
which  he  felt  himself  at  the  time.  It  was  the  same 
with  the  popular  belief  which  the  Homeric  poems  had 
already  embodied.  The  psyche  of  Homer  played  pre- 
cisely the  same  idle  part  in  the  existence  of  man  on 
earth  as  the  "  soul-demon "  in  Empedocles.  The  fact 
may  arouse  our  surprise,  but  it  is  beyond  dispute.  Psyche's 
sole  raison  d'itre  would  appear  to  be  her  separation  from 
the  body  at  death  and  her  survival  in  the  underworld. 
Not  a  single  instance  can  be  quoted  in  which  she 
appears  as  the  agent  of  human  thought,  will,  or  emotion. 
We  may  go  further  than  this.  Those  functions,  so  far 
from  being  performed  by  the  Homeric  psyche,  actually 
belonged  to  a  being  of  quite  a  different  formation — to 
a  perishable  being  which  dissolved  in  air  at  the  death 
of  animals  and  men.  To  that  extent  it  is  even  legiti- 
mate to  speak  of  a  two-soul  theory  in  Homer,  and 
this  second  mortal  soul  went  by  the  name  of  Thymos. 
The  word  is  identical  with  the  Latin  fuvius,  or  smoke, 
with  the  Sanskrit  d/minas,  the  Old  Slavonic  dymii,  and  so 
forth.  We  were  ignorant  of  the  nature  of  this  smoke-soul 
till  it  was  illustrated  by  a  remark  of  Alfred  von  Kremer, 
who  in  the  course  of  his  inquiries  into  Oriental  peoples 
and  civihzations,  stated  that  "the  steam  ascending  from 
the  warm  and  freshly-shed  blood "  was  regarded  as  the 
psychic  agent.  The  smoke-soul  is  older  in  origin  than 
the  exclusively  Greek  psyche.  Its  antiquity  is  proved 
by  the  existence  of  the  word  with  partially  the  same 
meaning  in  the  allied  languages,  and  traces  of  its  original 
signification  still  linger  in  some  isolated  references  in 
Homer,  as  when,  in  awaking  from  unconsciousness,  Thymos, 
who  was  nearly  scattered,  is  collected  in  the  breast  or 
diaphragm.  Thus  when  the  breath-soul  came  in  the  field, 
*  Cp.  Bk.  I.  Ch.  V.  §  4  (p.  144). 


250  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  ground  was  already  occupied  by  the  smoke-soul  or 
blood-soul,  and  the  later  comer  had  to  be  content  with  a 
more  modest  though  nobler  part.  The  situation  remained 
unchanged  for  many  centuries.  The  poet  Pindar,  for 
instance,  wrote  that  "  Psyche,  who  alone  is  descended  from 
the  gods,  slumbers  as  long  as  the  limbs  are  in  motion," 
and  the  popular  religion  agreed  with  him  in  ascribing  no 
activity  to  Psyche  except  in  dreams.  It  was  not  till 
science  began  to  extend  itself  to  the  phenomena  of  the 
soul  that  the  old  process  of  thought,  dating  from  centuries 
before,  was  repeated  afresh.  Thymos  had  long  since  lost  its 
original  meaning,  and  was  therefore  altogether  inadequate 
to  the  demand  for  a  material  principle  of  explanation  ; 
so  that  Empedocles,  in  placing  the  seat  of  psychic  activity 
in  the  blood  of  the  heart,  may  be  said  to  have  invented 
the  blood-soul  for  the  second  time  in  its  history.  And 
if  he  still  retained  a  belief  in  the  immortal  soul,  he  was 
not,  therefore,  more  inconsistent  than  the  poets  of  the 
Homeric  age,  or  even  than  his  immediate  predecessor 
Parmenides.  For  Parmenides  too  reduced  to  material 
causes  not  merely  the  moral  qualities,  but  the  temporary 
psychic  states  of  men.*  Moreover,  he  ascribed  a  partial 
perception  of  darkness  and  cold  and  silence  even  to  dead 
human  bodies,  and  in  his  theory  no  beings  whatsoever, 
not  even  the  objects  that  at  no  stage  of  their  existence 
were  connected  with  a  psyche,  were  without  some  kind 
of  perception.  Nevertheless,  his  doctrine  did  not  exclude 
a  belief  in  the  soul  and  its  immortality.  Under  Orphic 
influence,  no  doubt,  he  represented  the  souls  as  descending 
into  Hades,  and  as  reascending  thence  to  the  upper  world. 
Philolaus,  a  younger  Pythagorean,  proved  himself  in  this 
respect  an  apt  follower  of  Parmenides.  The  elder  master 
had  derived  the  "mind  of  man"  from  the  composition 
and  elemental  mixture  of  his  bodily  parts,  and  Philolaus 
called  the  soul  itself  a  "mixture  and  harmony"  of  such 
parts,  though  this  in  no  wise  prevented  him  from 
assuming  the  existence  of  a  substantial  soul,  and  from 
believing,  in  accordance  with  the  teaching  of  "old  divines 
*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II./«. 


SELF- CONTRADICTION.  2  5  I 


and   soothsayers,"   that    it  was  exiled  to  the  body  as  the 
penalty  of  guilt. 

And  this  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter.  The 
belief  in  an  immortal  psyche  might  very  well  have  been 
dispensed  with,  but  Empedocles  was  no  more  inclined  to 
reject  it  than  were  the  representatives  of  the  popular  religion 
or  his  own  philosophical  forebears  and  contemporaries.  In 
other  words,  he  was  liable  to  the  same  religious  as  well  as 
scientific  motives  as  was  the  rest  of  the  world.  We  next 
come  to  the  question  of  his  self-contradiction.  He  made 
the  fate  of  the  soul  dependent  on  the  acts  of  the  men 
whose  bodies  it  temporarily  inhabited  ;  at  the  same  time 
he  reduced  the  mental  disposition  of  those  men — the  source 
of  their  conduct,  that  is  to  say — to  the  material  composition 
of  their  bodies.  Such  is  the  charge,  and  it  is  admittedly 
proven.  But  he  shares  the  responsibility  for  the  contradic- 
tion, not  merely  with  the  Orphics,  whose  psyche  certainly 
meant  nothing  more  than  that  of  a  Pindar  or  a  Parmenides, 
but  its  germ  can  clearly  be  traced  back  to  the  Homeric 
poems  themselves.  For  even  there  the  contradiction  is 
glaring.  Some  souls  at  least,  such  as  those  of  Tityus, 
Tantalus,  and  Sisyphus,  are  paying,  in  the  eleventh  book 
of  the  Odyssey,  the  penalty  for  crimes  which  the  immortal 
souls  cannot  be  held  to  have  committed,  according  to  the 
doctrine  prevailing  in  the  totality  of  the  poems  even  down 
to  their  latest  additions.  The  history  of  religion  in  all  ages 
is  rife  with  similar  anomalies.  We  need  hardly  refer  to  the 
conflict  between  predestination  and  retribution  in  the  eccle- 
siastical canons  of  mediaevalism,  or  to  the  Buddhistic  doc- 
trine, so  completely  parallel  to  the  Orphic,  of  the  retributive 
reincarnation  of  the  dead,  who  were  at  the  same  time  denied 
the  possession  of  a  substantial  soul.  It  is  difficult,  if  not 
impossible,  to  explain  away  this  contradiction  from  the 
central  tenets  of  the  widest-spread  of  all  religions  ;  and 
the  "Questions  of  King  Milinda,"  with  their  extraordinary 
endowment  of  ingenious  subtlety,  are  sufficient  testimony 
to  that  fact.  The  spirit  of  science  was  as  strong  in  Empe- 
docles as  the  sway  of  religious  emotion,  so  that  both  con- 
flicting tendencies  were  intensified  in  his  instance.     That 


252  GREEK   THINKERS. 

was  the  characteristic  of  Empedocles,  and  it  stamps  him 
with  a  grotesque  trait.  He  appears  at  one  and  the  same 
time  as  an  orthodox  member  of  the  Orphic  community, 
filled  with  pious  faith,  and  as  an  eager  champion  of 
scientific  natural  research,  as  the  heir  of  venerable  mystics 
and  priests,  and  as  the  immediate  precursor  of  the  atomic 
physicists.  This  duality  may  have  interrupted  the  con- 
sistency and  uniformity  of  his  system,  so  rigidly  maintained 
up  to  a  certain  point,  but  it  afifords  a  shining  testimony  to 
the  universality  of  his  sympathies  and  to  the  wealth  of  his 
natural  endowments. 

8.  Curiously  enough,  in  the  theology  of  Empedocles, 
where  it  would  seem  most  likely  that  his  dualism  would 
have  displayed  itself,  there  is  scarcely  a  trace  of  it  to  be  found. 
Here  he  succeeded  in  welding  the  two  halves  of  his  system  of 
thought  in  a  practically  undisturbed  harmony.  On  the  top 
of  his  conception  of  matter  as  endowed  with  force  and 
consciousness  there  was  obviously  no  room  for  an  extra- 
mundane  deity  controlling,  ordering,  or  even  creating  the 
world.  But  there  was  no  obstacle  to  his  belief  in  divine 
beings  of  the  kind  which  we  met  with  in  the  other  Hylo- 
zoists  and  designated  gods  of  the  second  rank.  We  are 
already  aware  that  the  four  divinely  conceived  elements 
of  Empedocles  disappear  at  the  time  of  their  union  in 
Sphairos,  and  lose  their  separate  existence  ;  and  we  now 
have  to  add  that  the  same  fate,  presumably  in  the  same 
moment  of  the  restoration  of  the  original  universal  unity, 
likewise  overtook  the  rest  of  the  gods  to  whom  Empedocles 
expressly  denied  immortality,  calling  them  long-lived,  but 
not  eternal.  The  universal  periods  by  which  their  longevity 
was  limited  presumably  served  to  measure  the  fate  of  the 
soul-"  demons  "  as  well.  Thus  his  theology  and  psychology 
were  linked  by  a  common  bond  ;  one  and  the  same  term 
was  set  to  all  the  separate  existences  which  might  disturb 
the  perfect  unity  of  being.  Except  in  a  single  instance, 
no  details  are  forthcoming  anent  these  secondary  gods, 
but  in  some  memorable  verses  about  Apollo,  Empedocles 
describes  him  as  not  possessed  of  human  limbs,  and  calls 
him  "a  spiritual  being  (Phren),  holy,  ineffable,  hastening 


EMPEDOCLES  AND    THE   E LEA  TICS.  253 

y 

with  swift  thoughts  through  the  world."  To  our  thinking 
it  is  as  inadmissible  to  identify  this  "  demon "  with 
Sphairos — the  animate  universe  or  universal  godhead — as 
to  subordinate  Sphairos,  in  whom  all  things  are  comprised, 
to  this  deity. 

There  is,  therefore,  no  serious  reason  to  reproach  Em- 
pedocles  with  eclecticism  or  with  borrowing  other  men's 
thoughts  without  taking  overmuch  trouble  to  see  that  they 
were  suitable.  But  a  certain  weight  is  lent  to  the  charge 
by  a  defect  of  the  philosopher's  mind  which  was  intimately 
blended  with  its  qualities.  He  was  a  thinker  of  restless 
activity,  constantly  engaged  in  the  pursuit  of  fresh  problems 
and  standing  in  the  closest  communion  with  nature,  and 
thus  his  spirit  lacked  the  patience  which  is  absolutely 
necessary  for  the  prosecution  of  every  thought  to  its  goal. 
At  the  same  time,  despite  the  wealth  of  his  teeming  imagi- 
nation, he  failed  to  exhibit  that  sovereign  self-security 
which  would  have  enabled  him  to  neglect  the  bounds  of 
empirical  knowledge,  and  which  enabled  Anaxagoras,  for 
instance,  to  raise  his  pseudo-chemistry  to  a  system  as  de- 
ficient in  outward  proof  as  it  was  internally  homogeneous. 
The  best  illustration  of  this  habit  of  his  mind  will  be  found 
in  his  relation  with  the  Eleatics.  We  may  safely  assume 
that  Empedocles  was  acquainted  with  the  didactic  poem  of 
Xenophanes  ;  indeed,  the  fact  is  vouched  for  by  the  occa- 
sional attitude  of  hostility  which  he  assumed  towards  it, 
and  we  may  fairly  trace  the  influence  of  the  sage  of 
Colophon  in  the  pantheistic  doctrine  of  Empedocles,  culmi- 
nating in  the  conception  of  Sphairos,  and  in  his  dislike  for 
the  anthropomorphism  of  the  popular  religion,  which  in 
one  instance  at  least,  as  we  have  just  now  seen,  came  to 
unequivocal  utterance.  Further,  his  acquaintance  with  a 
second  Eleatic  philosopher  is  proved  by  his  frequent  imita- 
tion of  verses  by  Parmenides,  with  whose  poems  he  must 
have  been  familiar.  An  enduring  impression  was  made  on 
his  mind  by  the  teachings  of  his  predecessor  contained  in  the 
"  Words  of  Opinion,"  and  relating  to  physics  in  the  widest 
sense  of  that  term.  The  same  is  true  in  a  less  degree  of 
the  metaphysics  of  Parmenides.     Empedocles  adopted   in 


2  54  GREEK   THINKERS. 

an  almost  literal  form  his  a  priori  demonstration  of  the 
impossibility  of  birth  and  decay.  But  we  have  to  go  back 
to  Anaxagoras  to  find  a  clearer  and  more  precise  statement 
than  is  to  be  found  in  Empedocles  of  what  we  have  called 
the  second  postulate  of  matter.  Empedocles,  it  is  true, 
was  convinced  of  the  general  stability  of  the  elements,  but 
what  we  miss  is  an  accurate  application  of  that  principle. 
His  optics  were  based  on  the  presumption  that  every  ele- 
ment had  a  fixed  and  original  property  of  colour,  but  we 
look  in  vain  for  a  clear  explanation  of  the  endless  multi- 
plicity of  coloured  substances  proceeding  from  these  primary 
colours.  Anaxagoras's  theory  of  matter  was  capable  of 
explaining  how  the  four  elements  "traversing  one  another 
showed  a  different  face."  His  account,  though  contradicted 
by  the  facts,  was  consistent  with  itself  and  with  the  postu- 
late of  qualitative  constancy.  But  Empedocles  failed  in 
both  particulars.  And  as  it  is  impossible  to  believe  that 
Anaxagoras  was  acquainted  with  or  appreciated  even  the 
outline  of  the  didactic  poems  of  Parmenides,  our  conviction 
is  strengthened  that  both  postulates  of  matter — the  second 
no  less  than  the  first — were  necessarily  evolved  from  the 
theories  of  Ionian  physiologists,  and  that  they  owed  to  the 
Eleatics,  not  their  invention,  but  merely  their  stricter  for- 
mulation.* At  the  close  of  an  earlier  chapter  \  we  left  it 
doubtful  whether  and  to  what  extent  an  intermediary  link 
was  required  to  connect  the  older  forms  of  the  theory  of 
primary  matter  with  the  later  stages  of  its  development. 
That  doubt,  we  venture  to  think,  has  now  been  satisfac- 
torily resolved. 

*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  3.  t  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  Ml. fin. 


(     255     ) 


CHAPTER   VI. 

THE   HISTORIANS. 

I,  The  intellectual  enfranchisement  of  the  Greeks  did  not 
exclusively  follow  the  lines  of  natural' research.  The  con- 
ditions of  time  as  well  as  of  space  by  which  their  horizon 
was  contracted  were  responsible  for  the  endurance  of 
mythological  modes  of  thought.  We  have  already  been 
occupied  by  occasional  attempts  to  widen  the  spatial 
bounds,  and  the  limits  of  both  were  extended  simultaneously 
and  permanently  by  the  rise  of  twin-sciences  which  were 
soon  united  in  the  same  hands. 

Greek  historiography  began  with  the  civic  chronicles, 
the  lists  of  priests,  and  the  records  of  victors  in  the  national 
games.  Mercenaries,  freebooters,  merchants,  and  colonists 
were  the  pioneers  of  Greek  geography,  and  the  powerful 
independent  intellect  of  Hecataeus  was  the  first  to  combine 
in  one  grand  sweep  both  these  regions  of  knowledge.  His 
wide  travels  and  his  still  wider  inquiries  had  supplied  him 
with  a  treasury  of  information  which  he  was  able  to  put  at 
the  disposal  of  his  Ionian  countrymen  in  their  insurrection 
against  the  Persian  rule  (502-496  B.C.)  in  his  capacity  as  a 
master  of  statecraft  and  an  accomplished  diplomatist.  The 
results  of  his  investigation  were  contained  in  two  works  of 
which  we  possess  merely  fragmentary  remains.  The  first 
was  entitled  "A  Description  of  the  Earth,"  and  its  three 
books  were  called  after  the  names  of  the  continents,  Europe, 
Asia,  and  Libya,  and  the  second  was  comprised  in  his  four 
volumes  of  "  Genealogies."  This  historical  work  was  prefaced 
by  a  motto  which,  in  its  intellectual  pride  and  the  cold  clarity 


256  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  its  reason,  sounds  in  our  ears  to-day  like  the  blare  of 
trumpets  at  dawn.  "Thus  speaketh,"  it  runs,  "  Hecataeus 
of  Miletus.  I  have  written  everything  down  as  it  appeared 
to  me  to  be  true  ;  for  manifold  and  laughable  are  the 
sayings  of  the  Hellenes,  as  they  seem  to  me."  Once  more, 
then,  we  find  ourselves  at  the  cradle  of  criticism.  The 
same  light  that  Xenophanes  had  poured  on  the  natural 
universe  Hecatasus  was  now  to  pour  on  the  universe  of 
human  affairs.  The  cause  and  method  of  his  doing  so  are 
practically  revealed  in  the  very  wording  of  his  audacious 
prelude.  He  was  obliged  to  exercise  his  selective  faculty 
in  the  contradictions  of  historical  tradition,  and  we  see 
that  the  spirit  of  rationalism  had  already  taken  hold  of  him 
in  the  courage  he  displayed  in  applying  the  knife  of  criticism 
to  the  historical  absurdities  incompatible  with  his  standards 
of  credibility  and  possibility.  Nor  was  he  content  to  accept 
one  tradition  and  to  reject  another.  He  felt  himself 
justified  to  revise  those  legends  and  to  extract  the  kernel 
of  truth  from  its  legendary  husk.  His  object  was  to 
relate  the  facts  as  they  appeared  to  him  to  be  true.  He 
had  no  archives  or  evidences  at  his  disposal  whose  age  and 
origin  and  mutual  dependence  he  might  have  sifted,  for 
the  practice  of  recording  contemporary  events  in  a  trust- 
worthy manner  was  of  late  growth  in  Greece.  The  myths 
and  the  poets  who  related  them  were  the  vehicles  of  by 
far  the  greater  part  of  historical  material,  though  prose 
authors  began  to  range  themselves  by  the  side  of  the 
poets  somewhile  after  600  B.C.  Hecataeus  was  accordingly 
precluded  from  questioning  witnesses  and  authorities,  and 
from  testing  their  degree  of  credibility.  His  faculty  of 
judgment  was  confined  to  the  use  of  inner  criteria.  He 
had  to  abandon  criticism  or  to  practise  subjective  criticism 
alone.  His  method  was  one  which  has  been  called  the 
semi-historical — an  expression  we  prefer  to  that  of  "the 
rationalistic,"  which  is  liable  to  abuse.  Meanwhile  we  have 
still  to  mention  a  factor  of  decisive  importance.  The  wide 
view  of  foreign  legends  and  histories  did  not  merely  con- 
tribute its  considerable  share  to  the  distrust  of  national 
traditions  ;  it  also  pointed  the  way  which   would  have  to 


HECATE  us   IN  EGYPT.  257 

be  followed  unless  the  investigator  was  determined  with 
undiscriminating  iconoclasm  to  throw  the  whole  mythology 
overboard.  One  experience  that  occurred  to  Hecatseus 
may  be  related  here  as  typical  of  the  impressions  which  he 
and  his  like  had  frequently  to  derive  from  their  contact 
with  older  civilizations.  He  was  talking  to  the  priests  in 
Egyptian  Thebes,  and  he  had  shown  them,  doubtless  with 
a  certain  complacency,  his  genealogical  tree,  which  began 
with  a  divine  ancestor  separated  from  Hecatseus  only  by 
fifteen  generations.  Thereupon  the  priests  led  him  into  a 
hall  where  the  statues  of  the  high  priests  of  Thebes  were 
placed.  They  numbered  no  less  than  three  hundred  and 
forty-five,  and  Hecataeus  was  assured  by  his  close-shaven 
guides  that  each  of  the  statues  had  been  erected  during  the 
lifetime  of  its  original,  that  the  priestly  dignity  was 
hereditary,  and  that  the  high  office  had  descended  unin- 
terruptedly throughout  the  series  before  him  from  father  to 
son  ;  that  all  its  incumbents  had  been  mortal  men,  and  not 
one  of  them  a  god  or  even  a  demigod  ;  and  they  added  for 
his  information  that  at  an  earlier  date  there  had  been 
gods  on  earth,  but  that  from  the  time  of  the  first  high 
priest  downwards  history  had  been  the  history  of  mankind 
alone,  fully  authenticated  by  documentary  evidence.  It  is 
difficult  to  describe  the  impression,  at  once  astounding  and 
convincing,  which  this  priestly  rebuke  made  on  the  traveller 
from  Greece.  He  must  have  felt  as  if  the  roof  of  the  hall 
in  which  he  stood  had  been  lifted  high  above  his  head,  and 
had  narrowed  the  dome  of  heaven.  The  region  of  human 
history  stretched  before  him  in  infinite,  and  the  field  of 
divine  intervention  was  diminished  in  proportion.  Gods 
and  heroes,  he  perceived,  could  not  possibly  have  taken 
part  in  such  events  as  the  Trojan  war  or  the  expedition  of 
the  Argonauts,  to  which  indisputable  authority  assigned  a 
comparatively  recent  date.  Things  must  have  occurred  in 
those  circumstances  much  as  they  occur  at  present.  The 
canons  of  the  possible,  the  natural,  and  therefore  of  the 
credible,  had  to  be  applied  to  the  events  of  an  age  which 
had  formerly  been  the  playground  of  supcrnaturalism  and 
miracles.  Hecat.eus  rose  to  the  occasion,  and  ai)i)licd  those 
VOL.  I.  S 


258  GREEK   THINKERS. 

canons  to  the  myths.  He  rejected  the  conventional  story 
of  Hercules,  who  drove  the  cattle  he  had  stolen  from 
Geryon  out  of  the  fabulous  Erythea,  situated  presumably 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Spain,  to  Mycenae  in  Greece.  In 
his  revised  version  Geryon  appeared  as  the  ruler  of  territories 
in  Epirus,  in  the  north-west  of  Hellas,  whose  cattle  were 
renowned  for  their  beauty  and  strength.  The  country 
seemed  to  deserve  the  name  of  Erythea,  or  the  Red  Land, 
from  the  colour  of  its  soil.  Similar  nominal  resemblances, 
and  the  boundless  resources  of  etymology,  played  in  the 
main  a  considerable  part  in  Hecatseus'  reconstruction  of  the 
myths.  In  the  same  way  he  applied  the  historizing  method 
— and  we  shall  see  it  repeated  in  Herodotus — to  the  events 
connected  with  the  Trojan  war.  Further,  our  critic  displayed 
from  his  judgment-stool  no  mercy  to  a  fabulous  monster 
such  as  Cerberus,  the  three-headed  watch-dog  of  hell.  Heca- 
taeus  identified  it,  on  grounds  that  we  cannot  now  verify,  with 
a  mighty  serpent  which  had  once  inhabited  the  Laconian 
promontory  of  Taenarum.  But,  not  to  multiply  these  details, 
we  have  quoted  enough  to  show  how  the  spirit  of  criticism 
and  scepticism  effected  its  first  entry  in  the  historical  studies 
of  the  Greeks,  and  we  have  illustrated  the  shapes  which 
by  an  inner  necessity  it  began  to  assume  and  to  maintain. 
For  when  Hecatasus,  the  Milesian  historian,  makes  room 
for  his  greater  successor,  we  shall  see  that  he  too  followed 
in  the  same  lines  of  reform. 

2.  That  greater  successor  was  Herodotus  of  Halicar- 
nassus.  The  date  of  his  birth  falls  not  long  before  480  B.C., 
and  as  the  author  of  the  most  perfect  masterpiece  of  the 
historical  art,  which  will  delight  the  heart  of  man  till  the  end 
of  all  time,  Herodotus  too  was  a  thinker  in  his  kind.  We 
lack  the  requisite  material  for  comparison  in  order  to  fix  the 
precise  degree  of  his  originality,  but  it  is  the  more  necessary 
to  consider  his  work  at  some  length  inasmuch  as  he  does 
not  speak  to  us  merely  with  his  own  voice,  but  with  the 
voices  of  several  of  his  contemporaries  whose  writings  have 
not  come  down  to  us.  And  indeed  we  can  conceive  no 
more  delightful  labour  than  to  return  again  and  again  to 
the  refreshing  fountain  of  his  histories.    The  very  beginning 


HERODOTUS    OF  HALICARNASSUS.  259 

of  his  work  is  full  of  instructive  merits,  displaying  as  it 
does  his  consummate  art  of  combining  or  rather  of  coalescing 
historical  with  geographical  science,  and  of  uniting  in  a 
uniform  perspective  of  narration  the  stories  of  the  most 
diverse  peoples.  He  searched  for  the  origin  of  the  ancient 
strife  between  the  Orient  and  the  Occident  which  reached 
its  zenith  in  the  Persian  wars,  the  goal  and  summit  of  the 
histories  of  Herodotus.  He  went  back  to  the  Trojan  war, 
and  the  abduction  of  Helen  that  led  to  it,  before  he  ap- 
proached King  Croesus  of  Lydia,  the  first  conqueror  of 
Greek  cities  in  Asia  ;  and  he  led  up  to  the  tragedy  of  Troy 
by  the  narratives  akin  to  it  in  his  conception  of  the  fate  of 
lo,  Europa,  and  Medea.  The  figures  and  events  so  familiar 
to  us  in  Greek  mythology  and  legend  were  transformed  by 
the  art  of  Herodotus  to  new,  nay,  to  modern  shapes. 
It  was  no  longer  the  jealousy  of  Hera  which  drove  lo  to 
wander  in  distant  lands,  lo  the  favourite  of  Zeus  meta- 
morphosed in  a  cow ;  it  was  no  longer  the  Father  of 
Heaven  who  ravished  Europa  in  the  form  of  a  bull ;  Medea 
the  sorceress,  the  granddaughter  of  the  Sun-god,  disappeared, 
and  with  her  went  her  share  in  the  capture  of  the  Golden 
Fleece.  Colourless  princesses  replaced  the  brilliant  heroines 
of  antiquity,  and  Phoenician  merchants,  pirates  from  Crete, 
and  freebooters  from  Hellas  did  the  work  of  the  supreme  god 
and  of  Jason,  the  godlike  hero.  The  second  abduction  was 
represented  as  the  atonement  of  the  first,  and  the  third  of  the 
second.  Heralds  and  envoys  protested  against  the  violation 
of  international  law,  and  might  only  took  the  office  of  right 
on  the  principle  of  "  like  for  like  "  when  the  evildoers  refused 
to  make  restitution.  Here  once  more  we  observe  the 
traces  of  the  semi-historical  method  formerly  practised  by 
Hecataeus,  but  its  range  had  now  been  enlarged  to  include 
a  causal  connection  between  the  so-called  authentic  events. 
Herodotus  appealed  to  the  evidence  of  Phoenicians  and 
Persians,  who  alleged  that  the  Greeks  had  intensified  the 
existing  racial  strife.  The  Greeks,  they  said,  had  been  the 
first  seriously  to  undertake  to  avenge  the  abduction  of  a 
woman,  to  build  a  powerful  fleet,  to  besiege  Ilion  and 
destroy  it  for  one  womnn's  sake  alone.     Similar  attempts 


26o  GREEK   THINKERS. 

were  made  by  the  Phoenicians  to  exculpate  themselves. 
They  contended  that  lo  had  not  been  carried  on  the  ship 
by  force,  but  rather  that  her  illicit  relations  with  the 
master  of  the  vessel  had  made  her  ready  to  flee  from  the 
anger  of  her  parents  before  they  discovered  the  traces  of 
her  guilt.  If  we  look  for  the  key  to  this  petty  historical 
method  and  to  the  decline  of  the  greatness  of  the  heroes 
of  mythology,  we  shall  find  it  in  the  last  resort  in  the 
motive  we  marked  in  Hecataeus,  in  his  desire,  that  is 
to  say,  to  widen  the  historical  horizon  and  to  contract 
the  limits  of  the  supernatural.  The  exalted  figures 
of  the  legends  drenched  in  the  colours  of  poetry  were 
degraded  by  those  means  to  the  level  of  the  natural 
and  credible  till  they  verily  sank  to  the  plane  of  triviality. 
Herodotus  himself  was  shrewd  enough  to  reserve  his 
judgment  on  the  historical  value  of  the  accounts  he  repro- 
duced. But  between  the  lines  of  his  narrative  it  may 
clearly  be  read  that  in  his  own  mind  too  the  credulous 
faith  of  earlier  generations  had  been  damaged  and  shaken 
by  these  combinations  of  foreign  scholars  or  "  the  learned  " 
who  maintained  a  cold  and  alien  attitude  towards  the 
mythology  of  Hellas.  He  betrayed  his  alienation  yet 
more  distinctly  in  his  own  treatment  of  the  legend  of 
Troy.  He  followed  Hecatseus  in  the  statement  that  during 
the  siege  of  Ilion  Helen  was  residing  in  Egypt,  and  not  in 
the  beleaguered  city.  Adverse  winds  had  driven  Paris  to 
Egypt,  where  the  high-minded  King  Proteus  detained  the 
wife  of  Menelaus  in  order  to  restore  her  to  her  lawful  and 
injured  lord.  We  need  not  concern  ourselves  here  with 
the  questions  how  this  belief  arose  in  Egypt  itself,  how 
its  way  was  made  smooth  by  the  poet  Stesichorus,  nor  how 
Herodotus  tried  to  support  it  by  quotations  from  the  Iliad. 
But  it  was  extremely  characteristic  of  the  new  method  of 
thought  that  Herodotus  should  have  been  at  pains  to 
establish  this  pseudo-historical  version  as  intrinsically  the 
one  possible  and  true  account.  He  argued  that  the  sole 
reason  why  the  Trojans  did  not  put  a  stop  to  the  long 
miseries  of  war  by  the  surrender  of  Helen  was  that  she 
was   not  in  Troy,  "  for  surely  Priam  could  not  have  been 


THE   SEMI-HISTORICAL   METHOD.  26 1 

so  infatuated,  nor  the  others  his  relatives,  as  to  be  willing 
to  expose  their  own  persons,  their  children,  and  the  city 
to  danger,  in  order  that  Paris  might  cohabit  with  Helen."  * 
Their  refusal  might  have  been  conceivable  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  siege,  but  not  after  the  loss  of  so  large  a 
number  of  citizens,  and  when  at  least  two  or  three  of  the 
sons  of  Priam  were  numbered  among  the  victims  ;  there 
was  also  the  consideration  that  Hector,  the  heir  to  the 
throne,  was  the  elder  and  more  capable  prince,  and  not 
Paris,  the  younger  brother.  We  turn  to  a  second 
example  of  the  semi-historical  method.  The  priestesses 
at  Dodona  had  given  the  historian  the  following  account 
of  the  origin  of  the  oracle.  A  black  dove  had  flown  thither 
from  Thebes' in  Egypt,  and,  speaking  with  a  human  voice, 
had  ordained  from  her  perch  on  a  tree  the  foundation  of 
an  oracular  shrine.  But  "how,"  so  Herodotus  objects,  in 
almost  querulous  tones,  "could  a  dove  speak  with  a  human 
voice  ? "  And  when  the  priestesses  went  on  to  tell  him 
that  a  second  black  dove  had  flown  to  Libya,  where  she 
had  founded  the  oracle  of  Ammon,  the  historian  rushed  to 
the  conclusion  that  that  legend  was  an  echo  of  another 
which  he  had  himself  heard  at  Thebes.  According  to  that 
account,  two  women  employed  in  the  temple  had  been 
carried  away  by  the  Phoenicians  and  sold  as  slaves,  the  one 
into  Libya,  and  the  other  into  Greece,  where  they  had  re- 
spectively established  those  two  famous  shrines.  This  plump 
invention,  due  to  the  arrogance  of  the  Egyptians,  aroused  in 
Herodotus  a  transient  emotion  of  scepticism  which  found 
vent  in  the  question  "  how  they  knew  this  for  a  certainty," 
but  he  presently  accepted  it  as  a  fact,  for  the  consentaneity 
of  the  whole  thing  was  so  complete.  The  inhabitants  of 
Dodona  had  regarded  the  strange  woman  as  a  bird,  because 
her  barbarous  language  had  reminded  them  rather  of  the 
chattering  of  birds  than  of  human  speech.  Further,  in 
saying  that  the  dove  was  black  they  showed  that  she  had  the 
dark  skin  of  an  Egyptian.  After  a  time  she  acquired  the 
language  of  the  country,  and  this  was  the  meaning  of  the 
report  that  the  dove  had  spoken  after  the  fashion  of  men. 
*  Herod.,  ii.  120  :  trans.  Gary. 


262  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Finally,  news  reached  her  of  the  fate  of  her  sister  who  had 
been  taken  to  Libya,  and  she  disseminated  it  in  Dodona. 
We  smile  at  this  strange  medley  of  childish  simplicity  and 
subtle  sophistication,  but  the  smile  dies  on  our  lips,  and  we 
cease  to  be  annoyed  at  the  unlovely  transformation  of  the 
naive  popular  mythology  when  we  reflect  on  the  significant 
part  played  in  the  intellectual  progress  of  mankind  by  the 
historizing  process  of  interpretation.  The  poesy  of  legend 
had  claimed  the  dignity  of  reality,  and  it  was  hardly 
surprising  that  the  reality  in  turn  should  have  broken  the 
bounds  of  poesy.  In  the  existing  state  of  the  methods  of 
research,  it  was  not  even  approximately  possible  strictly  to 
distinguish  the  frontier-line.  Nay,  the  ancient  territorial 
dispute  is  not  yet  completely  settled  to  this  day.  If  the 
"Father  of  History"  was  inclined  to  admit  the  historical 
claim  of  every  legendary  tradition  which  might  possibly 
have  its  origin  in  historical  truth,  it  is  the  opposite  tendency 
which  has  obtained  the  upper  hand  at  the  present  time. 

3,  We  have  seen  that  this  transformation  of  the  myths 
was  due  to  two  causes.  There  was  first  the  extension  of 
the  horizon  of  space  and  time,  and  secondly  the  exchange 
of  thought  with  critics  of  native  traditions  whose  foreign 
nationality  excluded  them  from  sympathy  with  Greek 
mythology.  But  we  have  still  to  mention  a  third  factor, 
which  was  perhaps  the  most  efficacious  of  all.  It  was  to  be 
found  in  the  painful  conflict  between  the  ancient  faith  and 
the  new  science,  which  were  seeking  reconciliation.  The 
increased  store  of  empirical  knowledge,  and  the  growing 
mastery  of  nature  by  man,  had  visibly  strengthened  the 
belief  in  the  stability  of  the  phenomenal  universe.  Thus 
the  problem  was  to  avoid  as  far  as  possible  a  sudden  and 
irreparable  breach  with  the  hallowed  traditions  of  antiquity. 
The  historizing  interpretation  of  the  myths  sacrificed  a  part 
in  order  to  save  the  rest.  It  was  one  of  those  half-measures 
or  compromises  which  are  due  to  promptings  of  instinct,  and 
which,  despite  unintelligent  ridicule,  are  really  of  the  highest 
value.  They  may  be  compared  to  the  "  fictions "  of  the 
law  which  formed  at  a  certain  stage  of  human  development 
the  foundation  of  all  true  and  enduring  progress.     Another 


HERODOTUS   AS    GEOLOGIST.  263 

instance  of  these  beneficent  compromises  related  to  the 
activity  of  the  gods  themselves.  Herodotus  tells  us  that 
the  Thessalians  explained  the  deep  gulf  that  formed  the 
river-bed  of  the  Peneius  as  the  work  of  Poseidon  : 

"  and  their  story  is  probable,"  he  adds  ;  "  for  whoever  thinks  that 
Neptune  shakes  the  earth,  and  that  rents  occasioned  by  earthquakes 
are  the  works  of  this  god,  on  seeing  this  would  say  that  Neptune 
formed  it.  For  it  appears  evident  to  me  that  the  separation  of 
these  mountains  is  the  effect  of  an  earthquake."  * 

The  conclusion  suggests  itself  that  Herodotus  entirely  and 
deliberately  rejected  the  intervention  of  supernatural  agents ; 
that  he  regarded  every  god  merely  as  the  president  of  a 
department  of  nature  or  life  regulated  by  fixed  forces. 
Such  a  conclusion,  however,  would  be  in  the  highest  degree 
unjust  to  the  double  thread  of  positive  science  and  tradi- 
tional religion  which  traversed  the  mind  of  the  historian  of 
Halicarnassus  with  equal  force  and  strength.  He  had 
noted  the  changes  on  the  surface  of  the  earth,  and  had 
paid  them  the  compliment  of  systematic  reflection  ;  he 
had  reduced  the  single  phenomena  back  to  general 
causes,  and  might  therefore  presume  to  dispense  in  that 
connection  with  the  theory  of  direct  divine  interposition. 
To  that  extent  at  least  he  was  a  pupil  of  Anaxi- 
mander  or  Xenophanes,  his  predecessors,  and  of  Xanthus, 
the  historian  of  Lydia,  whose  work  was  composed  in 
Greek  ;  and  he  was  no  less  the  pupil,  without  injury  to 
himself  on  this  occasion,  of  his  Egyptian  masters.  By 
their  example  he  was  enabled  to  explain  the  origin  of  the 
Nile  delta  in  a  manner  as  rational  as  it  was  correct, 
and  we  hardly  know  whether  to  be  more  surprised  at  the 
keenness  of  his  natural  observation  or  at  the  confidence 
with  which  he  dealt  with  immense  periods  of  time  ;  he 
estimated  the  present  age  of  the  earth  at  no  less  than 
twenty  thousand  years.  Other  instances  might  be  quoted 
in  which  Herodotus  expressed  his  doubt  as  to  the  direct 
intervention  of  the  gods.  The  Persian  magi  had  charmed 
a  severe  storm  by  sacrifices  and  incantations,  but  Herodotus, 
*  Herod.,  vii.  129  :  trans.  Cary. 


264  GREEK   THINKERS. 

in  reporting  this  account,  added  the  sceptical  remark,  "  or 
perhaps  it  abated  of  its  own  accord."  Moreover,  he  refused 
to  decide  the  question  whether  this  storm,  which  had  been 
so  destructive  to  the  Persian  fleet,  had  or  had  not  been 
caused  by  the  prayers  of  the  Athenians  to  Boreas  and 
the  sacrifices  they  had  hkewise  offered.  His  doubts  may 
have  been  aroused  by  the  proximity  of  similar  appeals 
uttered  by  Greeks  and  Barbarians  ;  but  in  instances  where 
such  a  corrective  was  wanting,  or  where  the  passion  of  the 
circumstances  thrust  his  sober  doubts  in  the  rear,  our 
historian  surpassed  himself  in  his  narratives  of  miraculous 
divine  apparitions,  of  heaven-sent  dreams  which  he  con- 
trasted with  those  due  to  natural  causes,  of  significant 
presages,  and  of  the  wonders  of  the  soothsayers'  art.  In 
this  respect  there  is  a  striking  difference  between  various 
parts  of  his  work,  and  some  short-sighted  critics  have 
hastened  to  the  conclusion  that  the  several  books  were 
composed  at  long  intervals  of  time  corresponding  to  changes 
in  Herodotus'  speculative  views.  But  hypotheses  of  this 
kind  are  at  once  uncalled-for  by  the  circumstances,  and 
without  any  secure  foundation.  They  would,  further,  be 
quite  inadequate  to  expunge  the  elements  of  contradiction 
from  the  historian's  theology.  His  conception  of  the  affairs 
of  the  gods  is  essentially  vacillating  and  parti-coloured. 
He  might  be  claimed  as  an  opponent,  not  merely  of 
anthropomorphism,  but  of  polytheism  itself,  when  we  recall 
his  eager  endeavours  to  trace  back  no  few  of  the  Greek 
divinities  and  ceremonials  to  Egyptian  prototypes  and  influ- 
ences, and  when  we  read  his  audacious  declaration  that — 

''  Hesiod  and  Homer  lived  four  hundred  years  before  my  time,  and 
not  more ;  and  these  were  they  who  framed  a  theogony  for  the 
Greeks,  and  gave  names  to  the  gods  and  assigned  to  them  honours 
and  arts,  and  declared  their  several  forms."  * 

In  this  connection  it  is  to  be  noted  that  he  expressly 

contrasted   the   nature-worship  of  the   Persians   with   the 

anthropomorphism    of  the  Greeks,  relating,  not  without  a 

trace  of  inner  agreement,  that  they  offered  sacrifices  to  the 

*  Herod.,  ii.  53  :  trans.  Gary. 


AND   AS    THEOLOGIAN.  265 

great  forces  of  nature,  sun,  moon,  earth,  fire,  water,  and 
winds,  and  conceived  Zeus  as  merely  the  "  complete  firma- 
ment." It  can,  indeed,  hardly  be  disputed  that  Hero- 
dotus was  liable  to  similar  fits  of  scepticism  through  the 
influence,  perhaps,  of  Xenophanes  and  other  philosophers. 
But  the  doubts  had  not  taken  root  in  his  soul.  We  could 
prove  this  in  many  ways,  but  we  may  refer  especially  to 
the  anxious  humility  with  which  he  concluded  a  scathing 
criticism  of  a  Greek  heroic  legend  with  an  appeal  for  the 
forgiveness  of  the  gods  and  heroes  whom  he  might  have 
offended.  It  is  in  the  same  passage,  too,  that  he  reserved 
the  epithet  of  "  the  truest "  for  the  Greek  doctrine  of  a 
double  Hercules,  one  more  ancient  and  veritably  divine, 
the  other  of  later  date  and  merely  a  hero  or  deified  mortal, 
distinct  from  each  other  and  worshipped  at  separate 
shrines.  The  doctrine,  we  may  add  in  parenthesis,  affords  us 
the  earliest  example  of  an  artifice  of  criticism,  more  popular 
in  later  times,  by  which  the  contradictions  in  legendary 
traditions  were  obviated.  The  outcome  of  the  scepticism 
of  Herodotus  was  probably  chiefly  his  conviction  that 
human  knowledge  at  the  best  is  but  a  poor  standard  by 
which  to  measure  divine  things,  and  that,  looking  at 
these  through  the  descriptions  of  the  poets,  we  see  them 
through  a  glass  darkly.  The  reservation  made  by  Herodotus 
on  one  particular  occasion — "  if  we  may  otherwise  trust  the 
epic  poets  " — has  a  deep  and  wide-reaching  significance, 
and  there  is  a  bitter  earnest  in  his  complaint  that  "  all 
men  know  equally  much,"  that  is,  equally  little,  "  about  the 
gods." 

We  can  well  understand  how  some  critics  have  mistaken 
Herodotus  for  a  monotheist  in  disguise.  The  description 
is  erroneous,  but  it  is  none  the  less  surprising  that  in 
places  where  he  discusses  questions  of  religion  from  an 
independent  point  of  view  he  does  not  speak  of  Apollo  or 
Athene,  or  of  Hermes,  or  of  Aphrodite,  but  almost  ex- 
clusively of  "the  god"  and  of  "the  divine."  Still,  our 
astonishment  is  diminished  when  we  remark  that  in  all 
those  passages  the  reference  is  to  general  laws  regulating 
the  course  of  nature  and  of  human  life.     Homer  speaks 


266  GREEK   THINKERS. 

in  such  cases  of  "  the  gods  "  and  "  Zeus  "  almost  without 
discrimination,  and  even  in  immediate  proximity.  In  the 
magnificent  verses,  for  instance,  in  which  the  frailty  of  the 
human  lot  is  incomparably  brought  before  our  eyes,  we 
read — 

"  Lo,  he  thinks  that  he  shall  never  suffer  evil  in  time  to  come, 
while  the  gods  give  him  happiness,  and  his  limbs  move  lightly. 
But  when,  again,  the  blessed  gods  have  wrought  for  him  sorrow, 
even  so  he  bears  it,  as  he  must,  with  a  steadfast  heart,  for  the 
spirit  of  men  upon  the  earth  is  even  as  their  day,  that  comes  upon 
them  from  the  father  of  gods  and  men."  * 

And  everywhere,  in  brief,  where  the  point  to  be 
emphasized  is  not  the  separate  endeavours  of  the  gods, 
but  the  common  action  resulting  from  their  uniform  will, 
they  tend  to  be  regarded  either  as  executing  the  decree 
of  the  highest  god  or  as  the  vehicles  of  a  uniform  principle 
shared  by  all  alike.  This  at  least  was  the  view  of  Herodotus, 
and  it  would  be  illegitimate  on  that  account  to  attribute 
to  him  a  negative  attitude  towards  the  individual  deities, 
uncertain  though  his  knowledge  about  them  may  have 
been,  and  serious  though  his  objections  undoubtedly  were 
to  the  coarser  forms  of  anthropomorphism.  There  are 
three  distinct  points  at  which  his  method  of  thought 
may  be  contrasted  with  that  of  Homer.  In  the  first 
instance,  long  and  earnest  reflection  on  the  order  of  nature 
and  on  the  lot  of  mankind  united  with  the  increased 
comprehension,  to  which  we  have  so  often  referred,  of 
the  uniformity  of  the  universe,  to  give  more  frequent 
occasion  for  the  discussion  of  the  general  laws  that 
govern  it.  Secondly,  the  diminished  confidence  in  the 
literal  truth  of  the  myths  robbed  the  figure  of  the 
supreme  god  of  many  a  human  trait  which  had 
formerly  attached  to  him.  And,  finally,  the  philoso- 
phers who  had  long  since  discovered  the  source  of 
all  existence  in  an  impersonal  principle  superior  to  the 
separate    deities   had  not   failed  to   leave  traces   of  their 

*  "  Odyssey,"  xviii.  139  :  trans.  Butcher  and  Lang. 


DIVINE   PROVIDENCE    AND   JEALOUSY.        267 

influence.  That  ruler  of  the  universe  was  supreme  over 
the  destiny  of  mankind  and  over  the  will  of  the  gods, 
but  he  possessed  at  present  no  strictly  personal  character, 
or  rather  a  character  deficient  in  individual  marks.  He 
could  accordingly  be  termed,  without  too  great  a  sacrifice 
of  consistency,  "the  god  "  or  "  divine  "  indifferently.  We 
reach  now  another  instance  of  the  self-contradiction  of 
Herodotus,  and  one  which  may  be  termed  the  most 
important  of  all.  It  is  connected  with  this  primary 
Principle  itself,  which  vacillated  so  indecisively  between 
the  personal  and  the  impersonal.  Sometimes  we  see  it 
as  a  tender  and  intrinsically  benevolent  being,  sometimes 
as  mischievous  and  intrinsically  malevolent ;  nor  have  any 
attempts  succeeded  in  explaining  away  or  even  in  reduc- 
ing the  differences.  "  Divine  Providence,  in  its  wisdom," 
is  represented  as  having  bestowed  a  rich  gift  of  fertility 
on  weak  and  timorous  animals,  while  restraining  the 
reproductive  powers  of  strong  and  noxious  animals. 
Thus  far,  then,  the  Divinity  was  concerned  for  the 
preservation  and  the  prosperity  of  creation.  Frequently, 
too,  it  fostered  the  acts  and  happiness  of  mankind  by 
favourable  decrees  and  dispensations  ;  but  there  were 
occasions,  on  the  other  hand,  when  it  took  delight  in  over- 
throwing "all  the  proud"  and  "mutilating  all  the  pre- 
eminent" just  as  the  "lightning  discharges  itself  on  high 
buildings  and  trees."  In  a  speech,  then,  that  Herodotus 
put  in  the  mouth  of  the  wise  Solon,  he  said  that  the 
divinity  was  "always  jealous  and  delights  in  confusion." 
And  the  supreme  deity  who  is  here  identified  with  the  idea 
of  destiny  is  conceived  as  dispensing  at  once,  not  merely 
the  tenderness  of  a  father,  the  envy  of  a  jealous  god,  but 
likewise  the  justice  of  a  bitter  avenger  of  the  guilt  of 
mankind.  These  contradictory  features  were  not  wholly 
unknown  to  ancient  mythology,  but  men's  reflections  on 
the  idea  of  purpose  in  the  world  had  been  extended 
by  this  time ;  their  pessimism  had  increased,  and  their 
ethical  consciousness  had  been  deepened  by  sudden 
changes  of  fortune  and  great  historical  revolutions  ; 
and  thus  the  differences  in  the  self-contradictory  theories 


268  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  earthly  phenomena  had  been  intensified.  Nor  are  we 
concerned  with  a  mere  distinction  of  degree.  The  conflict 
of  tendencies  and  intentions,  in  passing  from  a  variety 
of  separate  beings  into  the  keeping  of  one  supreme 
god,  had  passed  into  another  and  more  glaring  condition 
of  discord. 

With  regard  to  the  judicial  office  of  the  godhead  alluded 
to  above,  we  are  struck  by  a  very  remarkable  distinction. 
At  one  time  it  is  represented  as  a  part  of  what  might  almost 
be  called  the  automatic  order  of  things  ;  at  another  time 
the  divine  judge  appears  as  a  purposeful  power  artfully 
selecting  the  means  for  the  accomplishment  of  his  ends, 
deriding  all  human  intentions,  and  compelling  them  to 
serve  his  own  purpose.  Take,  for  instance,  the  story  of 
the  heralds  sent  by  Darius  to  the  cities  of  Greece  in  order 
to  demand  their  submission.  In  Athens,  as  well  as  in 
Sparta,  the  time-honoured  requirements  of  international 
law  had  been  set  at  nought  by  the  execution  of  those 
envoys.  "  What  calamity  befell  the  Athenians,"  as  a  retri- 
bution of  this  misdeed,  says  Herodotus,  "  I  cannot  say, 
except  that  their  territory  and  city  were  ravaged.  But  I 
do  not  think,"  he  adds,  "that  happened  in  consequence  of 
that  crime."  On  the  Spartans,  however,  his  story  con- 
tinues, there  alighted  the  anger  of  the  semi-divine  ancestor 
of  the  Spartan  heralds'  guild  of  the  Talthybiadae.  He 
was  incensed  against  his  countrymen  on  account  of  the 
murder  of  the  Persian  heralds.  For  years  the  sacrifices 
to  the  gods  were  accompanied  by  unfavourable  omens; 
then  two  of  the  noblest  sons  of  the  Lacedaemonians, 
Bulls  and  Sperthies,  resolved  to  free  their  native  city 
from  its  pollution  by  going  as  a  free-will  offering  to  Susa 
and  surrendering  to  the  successor  of  Darius.  The  Persian 
monarch  did  not  accept  the  sacrifice,  but  the  mere  offer 
sufficed  temporarily  to  abate  the  wrath  of  Talthybius. 
After  a  long  interval,  however,  in  the  first  years  of  the 
Peloponnesian  war,  his  anger  was  again  aroused,  and  the 
sons  of  Bulls  and  Sperthies,  who  had  been  sent  as 
ambassadors  to  Asia,  were  captured  by  a  Thracian  king, 
and,  being  carried  to  Attica,  were  put  to  death  by  the 


HERODOTUS  AS   CRITIC.  269 

Athenians.  That  event  was  regarded  by  Herodotus  as 
a  signal  instance  of  the  direct  intervention  of  the  deity. 

"For  that  the  wrath  of  Talthybius,"  he  writes,  "aHghted  on  mes- 
sengers, and  did  not  cease  until  it  was  satisfied,  this  was  but  right 
(and  natural) ;  but  that  it  should  fall  on  the  sons  of  the  men  who 
went  up  to  the  king  on  account  of  that  wrath  .  .  .  this  does  seem 
to  me  to  be  plainly  the  doing  of  the  godhead."  * 

In  other  words,  Herodotus  recognized  that  the  hand  of 
deity  had  interposed. 

4.  Apart  from  deviations  due  to  his  religious  sensi- 
bility, the  judgment  of  Herodotus  displays  in  other 
places  too  a  remarkable  vacillation  between  the  critical 
and  the  uncritical  methods.  Antiquity  ridiculed  his 
credulity  and  blamed  him  as  a  mere  "story-teller,"  but 
for  our  own  part  we  are  hardly  less  surprised  at  his 
occasional  display  of  hypercriticism.  He  is  frequently 
credulous  where  he  should  be  sceptical,  but,  on  the 
contrary,  he  is  frequently  sceptical  where  belief  would  be 
better  in  place.  He  had  only  heard  a  vague  account,  for 
example,  of  the  long  polar  nights  ;  but,  instead  of  availing 
himself  of  the  means  at  his  disposal  and  applying  the 
method  of  concomitant  variation  to  the  legendary  tale — 
the  higher  the  latitude  the  longer  the  night — he  preferred 
to  commit  it  to  the  limbo  of  fable  by  his  emphatic 
declaration  that  "  men  are  found  who  sleep  six  months 
at  a  time,  but  this  I  do  not  at  all  admit."  t  Similarly,  he 
was  quite  well  aware  that  the  Greeks  depended  on  the 
north  of  Europe  for  their  tin  no  less  than  for  their  amber  ; 
he  refused,  however,  to  permit  them  to  locate  the  home  of 
that  metal  in  the  group  of  islands  of  Great  Britain,  which 
the  Greeks  entitled  the  "  Isles  of  Tin "  precisely  on 
account  of  that  important  product.  The  reason  he  alleges  is 
that  no  trouble  on  his  part  had  availed  to  discover  an 
authority  who  could  vouch  for  the  existence  of  the  sea  as 
the  boundary  of  Northern  Europe  by  the  evidence  of  his 
own  eyes.      Again,  he  was  acquainted  with  the  tendency  of 

*  Herod.,  vii.  137  :  trans,  author, 
t  Herod.,  iv.  25  :  trans.  Cary. 


270  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  human  mind  to  expect  in  the  products  of  nature  rather 
more  than  a  common  degree  of  regularity  and  symmetry, 
and  accordingly  he  was  not  unjustly  disposed  to  ridicule 
his  predecessors  who  had  drawn  their  map  of  the  earth  with 
Europe  and  Asia  as  continents  of  an  equal  circumference. 
But  he  went  on  to  "  smile  "  at  the  further  description  of 
the  geographers — the  reference  is  to  Hecataeus  in  especial 
— who  represented  the  earth  as  "  made  circular  as  if  by  a 
lathe."  *  It  is  abundantly  clear  that  Herodotus  was  not 
prepared  to  accept  the  doctrine  published  by  Parmenides 
of  the  globular  shape  of  the  earth.  But  in  this  connection 
the  most  remarkable  fact  is  that  Herodotus  himself  fell  a 
victim  on  one  occasion  to  the  same  misleading  tendency. 
Even  where  his  predecessors  had  happened  on  the  right 
path,  he  suspected  them  of  adopting  fictitious  proofs  of 
regularity,  and  this  was  precisely  his  own  method  in  the 
parallelism  which  he  affected  to  discover  between  the  streams 
of  the  Nile  and  the  Danube  as  the  two  greatest  rivers 
of  his  acquaintance.  It  was  at  all  times  an  extremely 
difficult  task  to  pronounce  with  any  degree  of  certainty  on 
the  limits  of  possible  variations  in  the  organic  world. 
We  could,  therefore,  forgive  Herodotus  for  not  rejecting  as 
incredible  in  itself  the  existence  of  winged  serpents  in 
Arabia,  but  we  cannot  avoid  an  expression  of  surprise 
that  the  alleged  gigantic  gold-digging  ants  of  the  Indian 
desert,  which  were  "larger  than  foxes,  but  smaller  than  dogs," 
should  not  have  been  dismissed  as  fabulous  ;  for  this  at 
least  was  the  fate  of  the  one-eyed  Arimaspians,  of  whom 
our  historian  explicitly  declared,  "  neither  do  I  believe  this 
that  men  are  born  with  one  eye,  and  yet  in  other  respects 
resemble  the  rest  of  mankind. "if 

We  shall  conclude  this  discussion  by  accompanying 
Herodotus  to  the  extreme  point  which  he  reached  in  his 
advance  of  scientific  thought.  Among  all  the  various 
attempts  to  explain  the  flood  of  the  Nile  there  was  none 
which  he  treated  with  such  contemptuous  disdain  as 
the  attempt  to  connect  that  enigmatic  phenomenon,  in  a 

*  Herod.,  iv.  36  :  trans.  Gary, 
t  Herod.,  iii,  116:  trans.  Gary. 


A    TOUCH   OF  POSITIVISM.  27 1 

manner  difficult  for  us  to  follow,  with  the  stream  of  Ocean 
that  flowed  round  the  earth.  Herodotus  indicted  this 
mode  of  explanation  as  the  second  of  two  ways  which 
were  "scarcely  worth  mentioning;"  he  wrote  of  it  that 
"  it  shows  still  less  judgment  than  the  first,  but,  if  I 
may  say  so,  is  more  marvellous,"  and  he  went  on  to 
say  in  regard  to  this  phenomenon,  that  "the  person 
who  speaks  about  the  Ocean,  since  he  has  transported 
the  question  to  the  domain  of  the  inscrutable,  does  not 
admit  of  refutation."  But  it  must  not,  therefore,  be  supposed 
that  he  reserved  his  judgment  in  this  instance,  or  that  he 
held  the  question  of  the  correctness  of  the  theory  to  be 
intrinsically  insoluble.  The  precise  contrary  was  the  case. 
The  undisguised  contempt  of  the  passage  we  have  quoted 
above  is  supported  by  the  ridicule  of  the  words  that  imme- 
diately follow  :  "  for  I  do  not  know  any  river  called  the 
Ocean,  but  suppose  that  Homer  or  some  other  ancient  poet, 
having  invented  the  name,  introduced  it  into  poetry."  His 
meaning  practically  amounts  to  this :  A  supposition  so 
entirely  remote  from  the  region  of  fact  and  sense-perception 
as  not  even  to  provide  a  handle  for  refutation,  is  ipso  facto 
convicted.  In  other  words,  an  hypothesis  with  claims  on 
our  respect,  and  therefore  on  our  discussion,  must  in  the 
last  resort  be  capable  of  verification.  Herodotus  stood  for 
the  nonce  on  purely  positive,  not  to  say  positivist,  ground. 
He  recognized  a  gulf  that  could  not  be  filled  up  between 
the  inquirer  in  search  of  scientific  facts  and  the  poet 
creating  amiable  fictions.  For  once,  though  doubtless  for 
once  only,  Herodotus  is  revealed  in  a  brilliant  flashlight  as 
a  modern  of  the  moderns.  Inspired  by  the  heat  of  conflict, 
and  moved  by  a  passionate  desire  to  outstrip  his  prede- 
cessors and  rivals,  a  fundamental  truth  of  methodology, 
namely,  that  those  hypotheses  only  are  legitimate  which 
can  be  wholly  or  partly  verified,  became  as  clear  to  him 
as  noonday,  and  he  would  doubtless  have  been  the  first  to 
take  alarm  at  his  own  boldness  if  he  had  perceived  the 
full  meaning  of  his  thought.  But  there  was  no  such  risk. 
Batteux's  shrewd  maxim  applies  here  as  elsewhere  :  that 
"  the  ancients  must  never  be  credited  with  the  consequences 


2  72  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  their  principles  or  with  the  principles  of  their  conse- 
quences " —  least  of  all,  we  may  add,  ancients  like  Hero- 
dotus and  Hecatasus,  whose  activity  fell  in  the  midst  of  a 
great  period  of  transition.  Of  that  period  we  have  now 
to  take  leave,  though  we  may  have  occasion  to  return  to  it 
in  detached  references  in  the  future. 


BOOK   III. 

THE   AGE   OF   ENLIGHTENMENT. 

"  Ce  furent  les  Grecs  qui  .  .  .  fonderent  .  .  la  science  rationelle, 
depouill^e  de  myst^re  et  de  magie,  telle  que  nous  la  pratiquons 
maintenant." — Marcellin  Berthelot. 

"  Vielleicht  wird  die  atomistische  Hypothese  einmal  durch  eine 
andere  verdrangt  ;   vielleicht,  aber  nicht  vvahrscheinlich." — Ludwig 

BOLTZMANN. 

"  rhv  fiiu  ^iov 

Unknown  Dramatic  Poet 


(     275     ) 


CHAPTER   I. 

THE   PHYSICIANS. 

I,  More  than  one  title  to  fame  is  the  inheritance  of  Greece. 
The  men  of  genius  to  whom  she  gave  birth  dreamed  the 
brightest  speculative  dreams.  To  them  it  was  given  to 
create  incomparable  works  in  likeness  and  in  speech,  but 
there  was  one  creation  of  the  Greek  intellect  which  was 
not  merely  incomparable — the  positive  or  rational  science 
of  Greece  was  no  less  than  unique. 

We  boast  of  our  extensive  dominion  over  nature,  and 
of  our  insight  into  nature,  on  which  that  dominion  depends. 
Our  eye  sees  deeper  every  day — not  indeed  into  the  essence 
of  things,  but  into  the  sequences  of  phenomena.  The  adepts 
of  the  mental  sciences,  following  in  the  footsteps  of  natural 
research,  have  begun  to  recognize  the  causal  laws  that  govern 
even  human  affairs.  They  have  slowly  but  surely  trans- 
figured tradition,  till  we  see  them  building  a  rational  system 
of  the  order  of  life  corresponding  to  the  relation  of  means  to 
ends.  In  all  these  triumphs  of  the  intellect  our  humble 
acknowledgment  is  due  to  the  founders  of  science  in  Greece. 
The  threads  that  bind  antiquity  with  modern  times  lie  open 
to  view,  and  our  present  inquiry  will  have  to  take  them  in 
account.  Inevitably  we  ask,  On  what  did  it  rest — this 
prerogative  of  the  Greek  intellect  .-'  We  may  confidently 
reply  that  it  was  no  peculiar  privilege  vouchsafed  to  the 
inhabitants  of  Hellas  and  denied  to  all  other  nations. 
Scientific  thought  is  no  magician's  wand,  efificacious  in  the 
hands  of  Greeks  alone  to  conjure  the  gold  of  wisdom  out 
of  the  mine  of  facts.     Other  peoples  too  might  advance  :i 

VOL.  I.  T  2 


276  GREEK    THINKERS. 

just  claim  for  genuine  contributions  to  science.  The 
chronology  of  the  Egyptians,  and  the  phonetics  of  the  old 
Indian  grammarians,  need  not  fear  comparison  with  the 
products  of  the  Hellenic  mind.  To  explain  the  supremacy 
of  the  last-named,  we  may  recall  a  saying  of  Herodotus, 
who  ascribed  the  good  luck  of  Hellas  to  the  fact  that  she 
"enjoys  by  far  the  best-tempered  climate."*  Here,  as 
elsewhere,  the  secret  of  success  lay  in  the  combination  and 
inter-communion  of  opposites.  We  can  trace  the  springs 
of  Greek  success  achieved  and  maintained  by  the  great 
men  of  Hellas  on  the  field  of  scientific  inquiry  to  a  remark- 
able conjunction  of  natural  gifts  and  conditions.  There 
was  the  teeming  wealth  of  constructive  imagination  united 
with  the  sleepless  critical  spirit  which  shrank  from  no  test  of 
audacity ;  there  was  the  most  powerful  impulse  to  generali- 
zation coupled  with  the  sharpest  faculty  for  descrying  and 
distinguishing  the  finest  shades  of  phenomenal  peculiarity  ; 
there  was  the  religion  of  Hellas,  which  afforded  complete 
satisfaction  to  the  requirements  of  sentiment,  and  yet  left 
the  intelligence  free  to  perform  its  destructive  work  ;  there 
were  the  political  conditions  of  a  number  of  rival  centres  of 
intellect,  of  a  friction  of  forces,  excluding  the  possibility  of 
stagnation,  and,  finally,  of  an  order  of  state  and  society 
strict  enough  to  curb  the  excesses  of  "  children  crying  for 
the  moon,"  and  elastic  enough  not  to  hamper  the  soaring 
flight  of  superior  minds.  At  the  point  of  development  to 
which  we  have  now  attained  it  was  chiefly  the  critical 
faculty  which  advanced  with  great  strides,  and  which  stood 
in  need  of  ever-new  reinforcement.  We  have  already  made 
acquaintance  with  two  of  the  sources  from  which  the  spirit 
of  criticism  derived  its  nourishment — the  metaphysical  and 
dialectical  discussions  practised  by  the  Eleatic  philosophers, 
and  the  semi-historical  method  which  was  applied  to  the 
myths  by  Hecataeus  and  Herodotus.  A  third  source  is  to 
be  traced  to  the  schools  of  the  physicians.  These  aimed 
at  ehminating  the  arbitrary  element  from  the  view  and 
knowledge  of  nature,  the  beginnings  of  which  were  bound 
up  with  it  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  though  practically 
*  Herod.,  iii.  106  :  trans.  Cary. 


THE   MEDICINE-MAN.  277 

without  exception  and  by  the  force  of  an  inner  necessity. 
A  knowledge  of  medicine  was  destined  to  correct  that 
defect,  and  we  shall  mark  the  growth  of  its  most  precious 
fruits  in  the  increased  power  of  observation  and  the 
counterpoise  it  offered  to  hasty  generalizations,  as  well  as 
in  the  confidence  which  learnt  to  reject  untenable  fictions, 
whether  produced  by  luxuriant  imagination  or  by  a  priori 
speculations,  on  the  similar  ground  of  self-reliant  sense- 
perception.  But  before  we  turn  to  the  consideration  of 
medicine  and  to  its  influence  on  the  thought  of  the  age, 
we  must  first  acquaint  ourselves  with  the  authors  and 
representatives  of  that  branch  of  human  knowledge,  and 
take  its  rudiments  in  account. 

"  One  man  practised  in  medicine  verily  outweigheth 
many  other  men  " — this  compliment  greets  the  medical  pro- 
fession at  the  rise  of  Greek  literature,  and  posterity  would  not 
recall  it.  The  art  of  healing  in  its  earliest  stages,  springing 
as  it  does  from  crude  superstitions  and  hardly  less  crude 
and  frequently  misinterpreted  experience,  is  a  wilderness  of 
magical  customs  and  of  practices  partly  efificacious,  though 
dependent  on  unanalyzed  observation,  and  partly  thoroughly 
nonsensical.  The  medicine-man  among  savage  tribes  is 
more  than  half  a  conjuror  and  less  than  half  a  custodian  of 
old  guild-secrets  reposing  on  genuine  or  apparent  experience. 
The  science  of  healing  among  the  original  Indo-Europeans 
had  scarcely  advanced  beyond  this  stage.  A  monument 
of  it  still  survives  in  a  formula  of  blessing,  of  which  the 
Germanic  and  Indian  versions  are  so  precisely  in  agree- 
ment that  their  identical  origin  is  beyond  dispute.  There 
is  a  fascinating  picture,  too,  of  the  earliest  practice  of 
medicine  in  India  in  the  extant  "  Song  of  a  Physician." 
We  see  him  making  his  jovial  journey  through  the  land 
with  his  fig-wood  chest  of  drugs,  and  wishing  for  the  sick 
recovery  and  for  himself  a  rich  reward,  seeing  that  he 
lacks  "cob,  cow,  and  coat."  His  "herbs  overthrow  every- 
thing that  afflicteth  the  body,"  and  "disease  flyeth  before 
them  as  before  the  bailiff's  grasp."  But  he  docs  not 
merely  claim  to  be  an  "expeller  of  sickness,"  but  a  "slayer 
of  demons  "  too  ;  for  in  India,  as  elsewhere,  all  illness  was 


2/8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

looked  on  partly  as  a  heaven-sent  punishment,  partly  as 
the  work  of  hostile  demons,  and  partly,  too,  as  the  con- 
sequence of  human  imprecation  and  black  arts.  The  wrath 
of  the  offended  deity  might  be  appeased  by  prayer  and 
sacrifice  ;  the  mischievous  spirit  might  be  mollified  by  soft 
speeches  or  exorcised  by  spells  ;  and,  similarly,  the  noxious 
effects  might  be  averted  by  counter-charms,  and  where 
possible  they  would  be  made  to  recoil  on  their  author. 
Besides  the  formulas  of  spells,  amulets,  and  symbolic 
acts,  herbs  and  salves  had  also  their  uses,  and  it  might 
happen  that  one  and  the  same  means  of  healing  would 
be  applied  to  quite  different  cases.  In  the  Indian  art  of 
medicine,  as  revealed  to  us  principally  in  the  Atharva- 
Veda,  and  in  that  of  all  other  primitive  peoples,  the  fore- 
going remarks  hold  good.  Nor  will  they  be  found  less 
applicable  to  the  popular  medical  notions  of  the  Middle 
Ages  and  of  modern  or  even  of  recent  times.  The  fact 
that  the  selection  of  the  means  of  healing  was  determined 
as  much,  if  not  more,  by  the  force  of  the  association  of 
ideas  as  by  specific  experience,  left  ample  room  for  the  play 
of  the  element  of  fancy.  In  this  way  the  plant  eye-bright 
was  prescribed  as  a  cure  for  diseases  of  the  eye,  because  a 
black  speck  which  is  contained  in  the  flower  suggested  the 
idea  of  the  pupil.  Similarly,  the  red  colour  of  the  blood- 
stone, or  haematite,  formed  its  pretended  qualification  to 
stop  a  haemorrhage.  An  Egyptian  belief  maintained  that 
the  blood  of  black  animals  could  prevent  the  whitening  of 
the  hair,  and  modern  Styria  reproduces  the  ancient  Indian 
doctrine  that  jaundice  may  be  expelled  into  yellow  birds. 
As  was  only  natural,  the  art  of  surgery  through  all  its 
stages  was  the  least  affected  by  any  kind  of  superstition, 
and  we  are  positively  astonished  at  its  high  degree  of 
cultivation  among  the  nations  of  antiquity,  and  even  in 
prehistoric  times,  as  well  as  among  the  savages  of  to-day. 
They  did  not  even  shrink  from  operations  of  so  bold  a 
character  as  trepanning  or  the  Caesarian  section. 

Turning  now  to  the  earliest  evidences  of  Greek  civiliza- 
tion, it  is  a  somewhat  striking  fact  that  there  is  no 
mention  in  the  Iliad    of  medical  incantations.     Weapons 


THE    PHYSICIAN  IN  EARLY  GREECE.  279 

are  drawn  out  of  the  bodies  of  wounded  heroes,  the  flowing 
blood  is  staunched,  and  the  wounds  are  smeared  with 
ointments  ;  exhausted  warriors  are  restored  with  wine,  pure 
or  mixed,  but  there  is  not  a  single  word  about  any  kind  of 
superstitious  customs  or  spells.  It  is  a  fact  which  perplexed 
the  ancient  commentators  on  Homer,  and  it  agrees  with 
other  indications  which  point  to  the  dawn  of  an  era  of 
enlightenment.  When  we  come  to  Hesiod  and  the  later 
literature  in  general,  in  which  incantations  and  amulets  and 
beneficial  dreams  play  an  important  part,  we  see  that  such 
enlightenment  was  confined  to  the  circle  of  nobles.  Even 
in  the  Odyssey,  which  describes  the  beginnings  of  civic 
life,  and  the  hero  of  which  was  rather  the  ideal  of  enter- 
prising merchants  and  intrepid  seamen  than  of  noble 
warriors,  there  is  at  least  one  passage — the  episode  of 
the  boar-hunt  on  Parnassus — in  which  the  incantation  or 
epode  is  used  as  a  means  for  the  curative  treatment  of  a 
wound.  And  in  the  same  younger  Epic  poem  we  hear  for 
the  first  time  of  professional  medical  practitioners,  who, 
like  the  physician  in  the  Rig-Veda,  take  their  way  through 
the  land,  and  are  summoned  into  men's  homes  like  the 
carpenter,  the  minstrel,  or  the  soothsayer,  in  order  to  sell 
their  services  to  those  who  have  a  use  for  them. 

2.  The  physician's  profession  was  amply  recognized  in 
Hellas  at  an  early  date.  Its  oldest  and  most  famous  seats 
were  the  lovely  island  of  Cos  and  the  neighbouring 
peninsula  of  Cnidus,  in  the  southern  portion  of  the  west 
coast  of  Asia  Minor,  Croton,  in  the  toe  of  Italy,  and 
Cyrene,  far  away  in  Africa,  where  grew  the  umbelliferous 
plant  Silphion,  so  highly  valued  on  account  of  its  medicinal 
virtues  that  it  formed  a  royal  monopoly.  Cities  and  princes 
competed  with  one  another  for  the  services  of  eminent 
physicians.  Democedes  of  Croton,  for  instance,  was 
retained  one  year  by  the  city  of  Athens,  and  in  the  next 
year  by  the  commonwealth  of  yEgina,  and  the  third  year 
by  the  tyrant  of  Samos.  His  annual  salary  reached  a  sum 
of  which  the  mere  quotation  of  the  figures — 8,200,  10,000, 
and  16,400  drachmae,  or  francs — is  hardly  an  adequate 
expression  in  view  of  the  greatly  diminished  purchasing- 


28o  GREEK    THINKERS. 

power  of  money.  After  the  fall  of  Polycrates,  Democedes 
was  taken  as  a  captive  from  Samos  to  Susa,  where  we 
presently  meet  him  at  the  royal  table  and  as  confiden- 
tial adviser  to  King  Darius  (521-485  B.C.).  Indeed,  so 
admirably  had  he  treated  the  king  and  his  consort  Atossa 
that  the  Egyptian  body-physicians  who  had  hitherto 
enjoyed  the  royal  favour  fell  swiftly  in  disgrace,  and  were 
in  actual  danger  of  their  lives.  Again,  about  the  middle 
of  the  fifth  century,  we  find  the  Cypriot  physician  Onasilus 
and  his  brothers,  who  had  rendered  medical  service  in  the 
field  during  the  siege  of  Edalion  by  the  Persians,  enjoying 
the  highest  honours  and  equipped  in  a  princely  style  with 
ample  crown  property.  It  is  to  be  noted  in  this  connection 
that  the  esteem  in  which  physicians  were  held  corresponded 
to  the  moral  demands  that  were  made  on  them.  A  guild, 
the  members  of  which  were  rewarded  so  richly  and 
honoured  so  highly,  was  not  likely  to  lack  its  charlatans 
and  ignorant  swindlers.  But  the  conscience  of  the  pro- 
fession, which  was  composed  for  the  most  part  of  honour- 
able and  capable  physicians,  suppressed,  if  it  did  not  expel, 
those  parasites  on  the  noble  tree. 

At  this  point  we  have  to  mention  a  document  of  which 
the  antiquity  is  not  its  sole  claim  to  veneration.  "  The 
Physician's  Oath  "  is  a  monument  of  the  highest  rank  in 
the  history  of  civilization,  and  it  is  full  of  interest  for  the 
study  of  the  internal  constitution  of  the  guild  as  well  as 
for  that  of  the  ethical  standard  to  which  physicians  were 
required  to  conform.  We  can  trace  therein  the  transition 
from  a  close  professional  caste  to  the  free  and  general  exer- 
cise of  an  art.  The  apprentice  promised  to  honour  his  master 
as  his  parents,  to  assist  him  in  all  his  necessities,  and  to 
impart  gratuitous  instruction  to  his  offspring  should  they 
choose  the  same  vocation,  but  to  no  one  else  save  only  to 
his  own  sons  and  to  pupils  bound  by  contract  and  by  oath. 
He  swore  that  he  would  help  the  sick  "according  to  his 
knowledge  and  power  ; "  that  he  would  rigidly  abstain  from 
every  evil  and  criminal  abuse  of  the  means  and  instruments 
of  his  art ;  that  he  would  not  give  poison  even  to  those 
who  asked  for  it ;  that  he  would  supply  no  woman  with 


DUTIES   AND    STATUS.  28 1 

means  to  procure  abortion  ;  that  he  would  not  perform 
castration — the  abomination  of  Greek  sentiment — even 
where  it  appeared  to  be  medically  advisable  ;  and,  finally, 
he  bound  himself  to  avoid  every  abuse,  erotic  or  otherwise, 
of  his  position  towards  his  patients  of  both  sexes,  whether 
free  or  slaves,  and  to  keep  an  inviolable  silence  about  all 
the  secrets  which  he  learnt  in  the  exercise  of  his  calling 
or  even  outside  of  it.  This  oath  brings  the  memorable 
document  to  a  close,  with  repeated  solemn  adjurations  to 
the  gods,  and  it  adds  considerably  to  the  significance  of 
the  record  that,  in  the  complete  absence  of  State  control, 
it  formed  the  one  public  set  of  regulations  for  the  practice 
of  the  art  of  medicine.  It  is  supplemented  by  numerous 
passages  in  the  medical  writings  of  those  times,  in  which 
the  same  pungent  satire  is  directed  at  the  arrogance  of 
ignorance  as  at  the  humbug  of  quackery.  Physicians  who 
are  such  "  in  name,  but  not  in  fact "  are  compared  with 
the  "  mute  persons  "  or  supernumeraries  of  the  stage.  The 
courage  of  wisdom  is  contrasted  with  the  foolhardiness 
of  ignorance.  Touting  for  fees  is  deprecated,  and  a  con- 
ference with  other  physicians  in  cases  of  doubt  or  hesita- 
tion is  urgently  enjoined.  We  quote  here  a  fine  remark : 
"  Where  there  is  love  of  humanity  there  will  be  love  of  the 
profession."  If  two  or  more  ways  of  medical  treatment 
were  possible,  the  physician  was  recommended  to  choose 
the  least  imposing  or  sensational ;  it  was  an  act  of  "  deceit  " 
to  dazzle  the  patient's  eye  by  brilliant  exhibitions  of  skill 
which  might  very  well  be  dispensed  with.  The  practice 
of  holding  public  lectures  in  order  to  increase  his  reputa- 
tion was  discouraged  in  the  physician,  and  he  was  especially 
warned  against  lectures  tricked  out  with  quotations  from 
the  poets.  Physicians  who  pretended  to  infallibility  in 
detecting  even  the  minutest  departure  from  their  prescrip- 
tions were  laughed  at  ;  and,  finally,  there  were  precise  bye- 
laws  to  regulate  the  personal  behaviour  of  the  physician. 
He  was  enjoined  to  observe  the  most  scrupulous  cleanliness, 
and  was  advised  to  cultivate  an  elegance  removed  from  all 
signs  of  luxury,  even  down  to  the  detail  that  he  might  use 
perfumes,  but  not  in  an  immoderate  degree. 


282  GREEK   THINKERS. 

3.  We  have  entered  imperceptibly  that  region  of  litera- 
ture in  which  "  the  father  of  medicine  "  reigns  supreme. 
Hippocrates  the  Great,  as  Aristotle  is  the  first  to  entitle 
him,  was  born  in  460  B.C.  in  the  island  of  Cos,  and  was 
recognized  by  all  antiquity  as  the  type  of  the  perfect 
physician  and  author  of  medical  treatises.  His  fame 
eclipsed  that  of  all  his  professional  brethren,  and  a  large 
collection  of  writings  have  been  ascribed  to  his  pen  which 
bear  unmistakable  traces  of  a  diversity  of  authorship  and 
sometimes  of  a  feud  of  schools.  The  ancients  were  fully 
aware  of  this  fact,  though  the  attempts  of  their  scholars 
to  adjudicate  the  authorship  were  hardly  more  successful 
than  those  of  modern  or  recent  critics.  This  problem  is 
one  of  the  most  delicate  in  the  history  of  literature,  and 
we  shall  not  attempt  to  arrive  at  a  solution  in  this  place. 
The  names  of  the  authors  of  the  books  must  remain  hidden 
from  us,  and  the  same  is  true  in  most  cases  of  the  dates 
of  their  composition.  We  must  be  content  with  expressing 
the  conviction  that  no  portion  of  the  so-called  corpus  Hippo- 
craticuni,  with  a  few  inconsiderable  exceptions,  is  later 
than  the  close  of  the  fifth  century  B.C.  Those  treatises, 
accordingly,  may  be  accepted  as  affording  ample  testimony 
for  the  intellectual  movement  of  the  age  that  we  are  now 
considering.  An  irrefutable  proof  of  the  correctness  of  this 
view  is  contained  in  the  special  subject  with  which  we  are 
immediately  concerned,  for  the  names  of  two  philosophers 
only — Melissus  *  and  Empedocles — are  contained  in  this 
multifarious  mass  of  literature.  Other  thinkers  whose 
influence  may  be  traced  in  it  are  Xenophanes,  Parme- 
nides,  Heraclitus,  Alcmseon,  Anaxagoras,  and  Diogenes  of 
ApoUonia,  whose  acquaintance  we  have  not  yet  made. 
But  the  treatises  contain  not  the  faintest  indication  what- 
ever to  lead  us  outside  of  the  chronological  limit  we  have 
set  to  them.  This  in  itself  is  evidence  of  the  existence  of 
that  limit,  for  it  would  surely  be  astounding  if,  in  an  age 
of  the  most  rapid  intellectual  development  and  of  the  most 
facile  circulation  of  ideas,  the  authors  of  medical  works  had 
in  their  pros  and  cons  confined  themselves  exclusively  to 
*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  W.init. 


MEDICINE    AND    PHILOSOPHY.  28 


J 


systems  which  were  either  already  antiquated  or  were  swiftly 
becoming  so.  Nor  does  the  spectacle  of  a  few  belated 
stragglers,  if  in  reality  there  were  any,  affect  the  certainty 
of  our  view  of  the  reciprocal  influence  of  medical  and 
philosophical  thought. 

Those  mutual  relations  existed,  though  they  have  often 
been  sought  in  the  wrong  place  and  at  an  insufficient  depth 
below  the  surface.  We  find  external  points  of  resemblance, 
for  instance,  such  as  the  Hippocratic  parallel  to  the  four 
elements  of  Empedocles  in  his  view  of  the  quadruple 
nature  of  the  humours  of  the  body — blood,  phlegm,  yellow 
and  black  bile — determining  health  and  disease.  Or  we 
find  mere  verbal  analogies,  which  do  not  always  point 
to  the  fact  of  a  loan,  nor  even,  when  the  language 
has  been  borrowed,  to  the  borrowing  of  the  doctrines  as 
well.  We  must  look  deeper  for  the  features  of  genuine 
resemblance  in  the  spirit  and  method  of  the  two  sciences. 
Another  glance  backward  will  assist  us  in  this  search. 
Doubtless  there  had  been  a  time  when  the  treasury  of  a 
Greek  practitioner,  like  that  of  his  brother  in  Egypt,  had 
contained  little  else  than  magical  spells  and  prescriptions. 
The  elimination  of  the  superstitious  elements  from  thera- 
peutics went  hand-in-hand  with  the  release  of  the  nations 
of  antiquity  from  their  general  burden  of  primitive  super- 
stition. In  some  orders  of  society  it  occurred  at  a  remarkably 
early  period,  in  others  comparatively  late,  but  it  was  never 
complete.  The  system  of  popular  medicine  in  which  the 
chief  part  was  played  by  amulets  and  charms  was  never 
completely  expelled.  But  the  lapse  of  time  may  be  recog- 
nized by  one  very  distinct  mark.  As  superstition  grew 
old  it  preferred  to  cover  its  nakedness  with  more  and  more 
meretricious  finery  ;  it  glittered  with  foreign  authorities, 
such  as  the  physicians  of  Thrace,  the  Getic  and  Hyper- 
borean miracle-mongers  Zalmoxis  and  Abaris,  and  the 
magicians  of  Persia,  till  the  overflowing  stream  of  Chaldean 
and  Egyptian  pseudo-science  swept  up  these  rags  and  tags 
of  superstition  and  bore  them  down  on  its  flood.  More- 
over, the  healing  arts  of  the  priests  always  asserted  their 
place    by   the  side  of  worldly  or   lay   therapeutics.     We 


284  GREEK   THINKERS. 

need  but  mention  in  this  connection  the  cure  by  sleeping 
in  a  temple,  and  the  beneficial  dreams  which  commonly 
occurred  in  the  sanctuaries  of  Asclepius.  Though  advanced 
thinkers  poured  their  contempt  *  on  these  superstitious 
practices  sanctioned  by  the  national  religion,  yet  they 
were  held  in  undiminished  respect  by  wide  classes  of  the 
populace,  and  their  efficacy  was  occasionally  proclaimed  in 
the  ravings  of  learned  but  foolish  men,  such  as  Aristides, 
the  rhetorician  of  Imperial  Rome.  By  these  means  they 
survived  the  era  of  Paganism.  Indeed,  the  seats  in  which 
they  were  located  owed  a  part  of  the  virtual  permanence 
of  their  attraction  to  their  combination  with  rational 
methods  of  treatment,  and  another  part  to  their  salubrious 
situation  and  surroundings.  Epidaurus,  for  example,  the 
most  famous  of  these  priestly  health  resorts,  was  situated 
in  hilly  country  in  the  heart  of  beautiful  pine-woods  at  no 
great  distance  from  the  sea.  It  was  sheltered  on  the  north 
by  a  range  of  mountains,  and  with  its  precious  springs  of 
water  it  fulfilled  all  the  requirements  of  a  modern  sana- 
torial  establishment.  Nor  was  the  public  at  that  watering- 
place  deprived  of  the  means  of  recreation  and  enjoyment. 
It  possessed  a  racecourse  and  a  theatre,  the  stately  ruins 
of  which  we  are  still  able  to  admire.  It  was  contended  in 
antiquity  that  lay  medicine  derived  considerable  benefit 
from  the  comments  on  the  treatment  and  course  of  diseases 
made  by  the  priestly  physicians.  We  find  it  difficult,  how- 
ever, to  place  credence  in  that  statement.  We  have  lately 
come  in  possession  of  a  long  series  of  such  notes  discovered 
in  Epidaurus  itself,  and  we  are  bound  to  confess  that  they 
would  be  adapted  to  any  other  purpose  better  than  to  that 
of  the  study  of  medicine.  It  would  not  be  inappropriate, 
for  instance,  to  find  them  a  home  in  the  fables  of  the 
"Arabian  Nights."  Among  other  tales  which  we  owe  to 
the  inscriptions  on  those  stones,  there  is  a  story  of  a  broken 
goblet  which  was  made  whole  again  without  human  inter- 
vention ;  and  another  of  a  head  severed  from  its  trunk, 
which  the  inferior  demons  who  had  cut  it  off  were  unable  to 
replace  till  Asclepius  had  hastened  in  person  to  accomplish 
*  Cp.  Aristophanes,  "  Plutus." 


LAY  AND  SCIENTIFIC    MEDICINE.  285 

the  miracle.  In  these  accounts  of  the  priestly  cures, 
as  in  other  annals  of  wonder-working,  the  dietetic  and 
therapeutic  factors,  which  had  been  genuinely  efficacious, 
were  either  overlooked  by  the  scribes  or  were  purposely 
omitted.  Progress  was  made  in  the  lay  art  of  medicine 
because  the  material  for  observation  was  constantly 
accumulating,  and  successive  generations  benefited  by 
their  dower  of  centuries  of  experience,  and  because  the 
physicians  of  Greece  shared  with  her  poets  and  sculptors 
the  same  splendid  faculties  of  keen  sight  and  of  faithful 
reproduction  of  the  thing  seen.  Still,  all  this  accumulation 
and  sifting  of  the  raw  material  sufficed  to  provide  little 
more  than  a  foundation-stone  for  a  scientific  system  of 
medicine.  The  complete  structure  was  yet  in  the  dim 
perspective.  Other  preliminaries,  other  powerful  incentives, 
were  required  for  its  realization,  and  these  may  be  claimed 
as  the  contribution  of  that  impulse  towards  generalization 
which  grew  and  flourished  more  than  elsewhere  in  the 
Greek  schools  of  philosophy. 

We  need  hardly  remind  our  readers  of  AlcmEeon,  the 
philosopher-physician,  and  of  the  important  discoveries  con- 
nected with  his  name.  The  various  parts  for  which  Empe- 
docles  was  cast  included  the  character  of  the  physician,  and 
among  other  figures  in  which  the  physician  was  concealed 
by  the  philosopher  there  were — as  a  recent  discovery  has 
shown — Philolaus,  Hippo,  and  Diogenes  of  Apollonia,  who 
has  been  mentioned  just  above.  But  the  ideal  union  of 
these  two  sciences  is  of  far  more  importance  than  the  fact 
that  both  were  occasionally  practised  by  one  and  the 
same  person,  and  it  was  fostered  by  the  conviction  which 
gradually  grew  out  of  the  culture  of  those  times,  and 
which  may  be  formulated  as  follows  : — 

The  human  being  is  a  part  of  the  whole  of  nature,  and  cannot 
be  understood  without  it.  What  is  wanted  is  a  satisfactory  general 
view  of  the  process  of  the  universe.  Possessing  this,  we  shall  find 
the  key  in  our  hand  which  will  open  the  most  secret  recesses  of  the 
art  of  medicine. 

A  number  of  the  alleged  treatises  of  Hippocrates 
take   the   attitude    therein    defined   displaying   a   common 


286  GREEK   THINKERS. 

leaning  to  the  systems  of  the  nature-philosophy,  and  a 
common  eclecticism,  though  in  varying  degrees,  in 
employing  them ;  the  majority,  too,  are  marked  by 
their  connection  with  the  medical  teachings  of  the 
school  founded  at  Cnidus,  though  it  is  impossible  at 
this  date  to  determine  with  certainty  whether  such 
connection  was  mainly  accidental  or  depended  on  the 
peculiar  character  of  the  doctrines  of  the  school.  In  support 
of  the  last-named  alternative,  we  may  instance  the  fact 
that  the  Cnidian  physicians  preferred  with  Empedocles  * 
the  more  physical  method  of  viewing  the  phenomena  of 
life.  Accordingly  we  have  to  distinguish  between  two 
great  groups  of  medical  treatises,  those,  namely,  that  were 
dominated  by  this  standard  of  thought,  and  those  that 
were  opposed  to  it.  We  place  them  in  this  order,  not 
because  we  can  assert  with  certainty  that  each  number  in 
the  first  group  is  older  than  each  number  in  the  second, 
but  rather  because  their  principles  and  chief  examples  are 
related  in  that  way.  The  philosophy  of  nature  gained  an 
influence  on  medicine  and  began  to  transform  it.  Then  came 
the  reaction  against  its  influence,  and  the  attempt  to  hark 
back  to  the  older  and  more  empiric  art  of  medicine.  In  the 
ensuing  pages  we  shall  describe  this  conflict  and  its  issue, 
but  in  accordance  with  the  proportions  of  our  undertaking, 
we  shall  be  content  to  illustrate  the  doctrines  and  methods 
most  characteristic  of  both  movements. 

4.  The  author  of  the  work  in  four  books  entitled  "  On 
Diet "  opened  with  a  discussion  of  principles. 

"  I  contend  " — so  runs  the  conclusion  of  his  preface — "  that  he 
who  will  write  correctly  on  the  subject  of  human  diet  must  first  of 
all  know  and  understand  the  nature  of  man.  He  must  know  the 
parts  of  that  nature  out  of  which  it  is  originally  composed,  and  he 
must  understand  which  of  those  parts  predominates  in  its  govern- 
ment. For  if  he  be  ignorant  of  its  original  composition,  he  will  be 
unable  to  know  what  effects  it  produces  ;  and  if  he  do  not  under- 
stand what  part  is  supreme  in  the  body,  he  will  not  be  enabled  to 
recommend  to  man  what  is  beneficial  to  him." 

*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  V.  §  3. 


THE    TREATISE  ''ON  DIET:'  287 

Among  other  demands  which  the  author  brought 
forward  were  a  knowledge  of  the  constitution  of  all 
food-stuffs  and  drinks,  and  a  comprehension  of  the  far- 
reaching  contrast  between  work  and  nutrition.  "  For  the 
performances  of  work,"  he  wrote,  "  are  directed  to  the  con- 
sumption of  what  exists,  and  food  and  drink  are  intended 
to  replenish  the  void  thus  created."  The  fundamental 
condition  of  health  is  a  correct  proportion  between  work 
and  nutrition  in  view  of  the  constitution  of  the  individual 
and  of  the  differences  of  age,  season,  climate,  and  so 
forth.  Except  for  the  one  factor  of  the  individual  con- 
stitution which  previous  to  illness  was  unknown  to  the 
physician,  good  health,  in  the  opinion  of  our  author,  could 
be  preserved  from  all  disturbance.  Next  he  turned  to  the 
elements  of  the  animal  and  human  body,  which  he  de- 
scribed as  two  in  number,  and  it  will  not  be  fanciful  to 
trace  the  influence  of  Parmenides  in  a  writer  who  is 
otherwise  strongly  influenced  by  Heraclitus  when  we 
discover  that  he  defined  those  two  elements  as  fire  and 
water.  Fire  he  recognized  as  the  universal  principle  of 
movement,  and  water  as  the  universal  principle  of  nutrition. 
In  a  passage  which  unmistakably  refers  to  the  movement 
of  the  luminaries  we  read  that — 

"  when  fire  reaches  the  outermost  boundary  of  water  it  begins  to 
lack  nourishment,  so  it  turns  round  and  reverts  to  the  sources  of 
its  nourishment ;  when  water  reaches  the  outermost  boundary  of 
fire  it  begins  to  lack  movement,  so  stands  still  and  becomes  .  .  . 
the  prey  of  the  fire  in  want  of  nourishment." 

The  condition  of  the  permanence  of  the  universe  in  its 
existing  state  is  that  neither  of  the  two  elements  shall 
gain  dominion  over  the  other,  and  the  connecting  link 
between  the  physiological  and  material  doctrines  is  the 
idea,  borrowed  perhaps  from  Alcma;on,  of  an  equilibrium 
between  the  performance  of  work  and  nourishment  on  the 
one  part,  and  between  the  cosmic  agents  of  those  functions 
on  the  other. 

Here  for  the  moment  we  may  call  a  halt.     Enough 
has  been  said  to  enable  the   attentive  reader  to  acc^uaint 


288  GREEK   THINKERS. 

himself,  approximately  at  least,  with  the  character  of  this 
work  in  its  weakness  as  well  as  in  its  strength.  We  are 
confronted  with  a  reflection,  the  greatness  of  which  is 
not  diminished  because  its  significance  was  exaggerated 
by  its  author.  Its  effect  is :  The  integrity  of  the  organic 
economy  rests  on  the  equilibrium  of  its  income  and 
expenditure.  We  chose  the  method  of  verbal  quotation 
above  in  order  to  avoid  the  suspicion  of  crediting 
even  unconsciously  an  old  and  old-fashioned  author 
with  modern  habits  of  thought.  We  shall  gain  a 
clearer  conception  of  his  great  generalization  if  we 
remember  that  similar  though  less  far-reaching  re- 
flections were  made  by  other  medical  writers  of  pre- 
sumably an  earlier  date.  Euryphon,  the  head  of  the 
Cnidian  school  and  an  older  contemporary  of  Hippo- 
crates, conjectured  that  the  causes  of  illness  lay  in  a 
surplus  of  food  ;  and  Herodicus,  another  Cnidian,  ap- 
proached even  more  closely  to  the  dictum  of  the  author 
of  "  On  Diet "  in  his  statement  that  "  men  fall  ill  when 
they  indulge  in  food  on  insufficient  exercise."  At  the 
same  time  our  author  may  claim  the  merit  of  having 
been  the  first  to  give  expression  to  a  fundamental  truth 
in  its  full  capacity,  while  he  is  no  more  affected  by  the 
reproach  that  he  discovered  in  a  single  condition  the  sole 
operative  cause  of  health  than  were  his  less  far-sighted 
predecessors.  It  is  one  thing  to  discover  new  significant 
truths,  it  is  another  thing  to  realize  the  limits  of  their 
capacity ;  it  is  one  thing  to  give  the  reins  to  the  general- 
izing instinct,  it  is  another  thing  to  know  when  to  check 
it,  and  it  would  be  foolish  to  ask  an  early  pioneer  of 
science  to  display  both  qualities  at  once.  The  value  of 
that  performance  was  more  seriously  affected  by  the 
attempt,  laudable  in  itself,  but  unattainable  by  the  methods 
then — and  even  since — at  the  disposal  of  science,  to  build 
physiology  on  a  cosmological  foundation.  Some  mischief 
was  bound  to  be  wrought  by  the  purely  speculative 
doctrine  of  matter  and  the  strangely  primitive,  not  to  say 
anthropomorphic,  astronomy  which  were  used  in  this 
connection.       Similarly,    the    thought    that    man    was    a 


HERACLITISM  AND   ECLECTICISM.  289 

model  of  the  universe,  a  microcosm  by  the  side  of  a 
macrocosm,  was  bound  to  lead  to  fanciful  interpreta- 
tions. It  was  a  grand  idea  in  itself,  but  even  in  more 
advanced  ages  it  was  found  to  darken  rather  than  to 
illumine  the  path  of  natural  research,  and  it  contains 
features  which  remind  us  of  the  philosophy  of  Schelling  and 
Oken,  such  as,  for  example,  the  comparison  between  "the 
sea"  and  "the  belly,"  as  the  universal  "storeroom  which 
provides  for  all  and  receives  from  all."  Nor  does  the 
ambitious  start  of  our  dietetic  author  come  to  grief  merely 
at  these  objective  obstacles.  His  mind  was  like  a  stream 
which  runs  deep  but  not  clear.  He  was  well-nigh  intoxi- 
cated by  the  enigmatic  wisdom  of  Heraclitus,  and  the  quiet 
and  orderly  disposition  of  his  subject-matter  was  disturbed 
by  his  constant  desire  to  illustrate  the  teachings  of  his  master 
by  ever  fresh  examples  taken  from  the  most  various  depart- 
ments of  life.  Nor  did  he  disdain  to  imitate  and  surpass 
the  Ephesian  in  the  use  which  he  made  of  the  rights  of 
paradox  and  self-contradiction.  At  one  time  he  spoke  in 
the  manner  and  the  very  words  of  Heraclitus  of  the  steady 
ceaseless  "  transformation  "  of  matter  ;  at  another  time  he 
agreed  with  Anaxagoras  and  Empedocles  in  reducing  all 
"  birth  and  decay "  to  "  combinations  and  separations," 
and  apologized  for  the  use  of  those  expressions  as  a  con- 
venience of  popular  usage.  In  other  respects,  too,  much 
that  he  borrowed  from  Empedocles  is  not  even  verbally 
harmonized  with  his  Heraclitean  principles.  Thus  it 
happened  that  the  great  principle  originally  promulgated 
failed  to  perform  all  that  it  promised.  It  remained  the 
leading  point  of  view  for  a  large  number  of  dietetic  pre- 
cepts, especially  in  questions  of  nourishment  and  gymnastic 
exercises,  elaborated  with  a  wealth  of  instructive  detail. 
But  even  these  most  important  parts  of  his  undertaking 
were  injured  by  the  vain  attempts,  repeated  with  weari- 
some iteration,  to  derive  the  differences  of  physical  and 
even  psychical  conditions  from  the  proportion  of  the  two 
fictitious  primary  substances,  though  many  actual  ex- 
periences were  turned  to  good  account  in  this  connection, 
and  at  least  one  original  experiment  was  made,  namely, 
VOL.  I.  U 


290  GREEK   THINKERS. 

that  of  artificial  vomiting  in  order  to  test  the  respective 
digestible  qualities  of  food-stufifs  simultaneously  con- 
sumed. 

And  now  for  the  concluding  book.     It  is  entitled  "  On 
Dreams,"   and   we   might  say  of  it,   after   Horace,  that  it 
formed  a  fish-like  tail  of  a  lovely  figure  of  a  woman.     It 
begins  with  the  distinction,   already  familiar   to  us  from 
Herodotus,  between  supernatural  and  natural  visions.     The 
first  kind  was  left  to  the  interpretation  of  soothsayers  who 
were  quite  gravely  alleged — and  we  regret  the  absence  of 
irony — to  possess  "  an   exact  knowledge  "  on  the  subject. 
Dreams  which  sprang  from  natural  causes,  however,  were 
used  as  the  basis  of  inferences  as  to  the  constitution  of  the 
body,  and  we  may  readily  agree  that  certain  dreams  can 
be  traced  back  to  over-feeding,  and  treated  by  an  aperient. 
But  in  his  desire  to  exploit  the  inquiry  to  some  purpose,  our 
author  speedily  transgressed  the  limits  which  at  least  pre- 
served him  from  absurdity.     He  set  full  sail  on  the  flood  of 
child-like  superstition,  and  by  reasonings   in  the  style  of 
Artemidorus  he  attained  to  goals  of  childishness  to  which 
we  are  indisposed  to  follow  him. 

Mention  must  be  made  of  a  further  treatise  "  On  the 
Muscles,"  which  we  perceive,  from  its  references  to  a  fore- 
going and  a  succeeding  book,  to  have  been  but  a  brief 
section  of  a  comprehensive  work  "  On  the  Science  of 
Medicine,"  and  which  exhibits  the  same  characteristics  of 
attractive  self-contradiction.  The  author  is  here  revealed 
as  a  practitioner  of  ripe  experience  who  has  seen  much 
and  observed  keenly,  as  long,  at  least,  as  his  faculties  of 
sight  and  observation  were  not  obstructed  by  preconceived 
opinions.  He  was  the  first  to  recognize  that  the  so-called 
spinal  marrow  is  entirely  distinct  from  the  common  marrow 
of  the  bones,  that  it  possesses  membranes,  and  is  related  with 
the  brain.  Thus  he  came  considerably  nearer  than  his  prede- 
cessors to  a  correct  appreciation  of  its  nature  and  meaning. 
Again,  he  had  seen  suicides  who  had  attempted  to  cut 
their  throats,  and  who  had  been  robbed  of  their  speech 
by  the  knife  penetrating  the  trachea ;  speech  had  been 
restored  to  them  by  the  closing  of  the  scission,  and  thence 


EXPERIMENTS    AND    ASSUMPTIONS.  29 1 

he  drew  the  correct  conclusion  that   it  had  been  the  air 
escaping  through  the  wound  which  had  made  it  impossible 
for  them  to  speak,  and  he  used  his  observation  to  confirm 
his  true  theory  of  the  formation  of  vocal  sounds.     Nor  was 
he  content  with  mere  observations  of  this  kind  and  the 
occasional  experiment  of  a  lesion  and  its  surgical  treatment. 
He  undertook  deliberate  experiments  of  his  own,  though 
on  a  modest  basis.     He  was  aware,  for  example,  of  the 
coagulation  of  blood  drawn   from  the  body,  but  he  had 
prevented  the  formation  of  a  clot  by  shaking  the  blood. 
Again,  in  order  to  distinguish  the  composition  of  the  various 
tissues  he  subjected  them  to  the  process  of  boiling,  and 
drew  conclusions  as  to  their  constitution  from  the  relative 
ease  and  difficulty  with  which  they  could  be  boiled.     We 
cannot  conceal  our  admiration  of  these  accurate  observa- 
tions,   methodical    experiments,    and    logical    conclusions, 
which  were  accompanied,  nevertheless,  by  misobservations 
and  arbitrary  assumptions  to  an  almost  incredible  extent. 
Thus  his  belief  in  the  efficacy  of  the  number  seven  in  all 
processes  of  natural  and  human  life  practically  blinded  him 
to  the  evidence  of  facts.     He  was  bold  enough  to  declare 
that  no  eight-months  child  ever  remained  alive.      Besides 
the  normal  term  of  pregnancy — nine  months  and  ten  days,  or 
40  X  7  days — he  would  only  admit  a  prospect  of  preservation 
for  a  seven-months  child.      On  the  other  hand,  he  asserted 
that  he  had  seen  embryos  of  seven  days  old  in  which  all 
the  parts  of  the  body  were  plainly  discernible.     He  was 
equally  prepared  to  prove  that  abstention  from  food   and 
drink  could  not  last  longer  than  seven  days  without  causing 
death,  whether  within  that  period,  or — as  he  naively  added 
— at  a  later  date.      Even  people  who,  after  the  expiry  of 
seven  days,  desisted  from  this  kind  of  suicide — by  no  means 
rare    in    antiquity — were    likewise    irretrievably    lost,    for 
their    body,   he   stated,    proved    incapable   of  assimilating 
nourishment. 

The  rigour  of  our  author's  thought  did  not  save  him 
from  the  spell  of  number,  and  in  other  directions  too  he 
succumbed  to  the  wiles  of  imagination.  But  their  victim 
may  well    be    pardoned,    for    it    is    difficult    to    sec    how 


292  GREEK   THINKERS. 

questions  which  defy  the  resources,  not  of  that  age  merely, 
but  of  this,  could  have  been  answered  save  by  fancy.    Nay, 
more.       His    attempts    at    solution    were    predestined    to 
sterility,  and  the  questions  themselves  have  been  prohibited 
by  modern  science.     For  our  author  was  engaged  with  no 
smaller  task  than  the  problem  of  organic  creation.     No 
hint  of  the  doctrine  of  evolution  had  crossed  his  mind. 
Accordingly  he  did  not  search,  as  the  boldest  of  our  own 
contemporaries   have   hitherto   searched    in   vain,    for   the 
possible  mode  of  the  origin  of  the  simplest  organisms  on 
earth,  but    he  sought  to   derive  man  himself,  the   crown 
of   earthly   existence,  directly    from    material   substances. 
And  from  what  substances  !     The  single  tissues  and  their 
combinations    were    to    be    derived    by   putrefaction    and 
coagulation,  by  condensation  and   rarefaction,  by  melting 
and  boiling,  from  the  warm  and  the  cold,  the  moist  and 
the  dry,  and  the  fat  and  the  gelatinous.     It  was  only  by 
way  of  exception,  too,  that  an  element  of  doubt  or  reser- 
vation was  introduced  by  an  occasional  "  it  seems  to  me  " 
in  the  dogmatic  and  self-confident  argumentation.     "  Thus 
came  the  lungs  into  existence,"  "thus  was  the  liver  formed," 
"the  spleen  was  composed  as  follows,"   "the  joints  were 
composed  in  this  manner,"  "  thus  the  teeth  grew  " — one  para- 
graph after  another  with  wearisome  uniformity  opens  with 
some  such  phrase.     We  need  not  trouble  about  their  con- 
tents, but  our  interest  is  aroused  by  the  level  of  thought 
attained  by  these  premature  attempts  to  penetrate  the  most 
intimate  secrets  of  natural  life.     An  important  distinction 
must  here  be  drawn.     We  have  to  get  rid  of  the  first  dis- 
agreeable impression,  difficult  though  it  may  be,  with  which 
we  are  filled  by  the  temerity  of  the  undertaking.     By  that 
means  alone  shall  we  be  able  to  reach  the  sound  kernel  of 
the  work  which  is  concealed  under  the  adventurous  exterior. 
It  brings  a  thought  to  light  which  would  not  be  belied  even 
by  the  science  of  our  own  times.     We  yield  assent  to  the 
statement  that  the  art  of  healing  must  be  based  on  a  know- 
ledge of  pathological  processes,  and  that  this  must  in  turn 
be  founded  on  an  acquaintance  with  life  in  health.     The 
science  of  corporeal  functions  presupposes  an  acquaintance 


SOUND   KERNEL    OF   THE    TREATISE.  293 

with  the  organs  by  which  they  are  conditioned,  nor  can 
that  acquaintance  be  gained  without  understanding  their 
elementary  constituent  parts  and  the  substances  and  forces 
which  are  at  work  in  them  and  on  them.  Finally,  in 
Aristotle's  words,  "he  who  sees  things  grow  from  the 
beginning  will  have  the  finest  view  of  them."  In  other 
words,  therapeutics  must  be  founded  on  pathology, 
pathology  on  physiology  and  anatomy,  physiology  and 
anatomy  on  histology,  chemistry,  and  physics.  The  theory 
of  evolution  shows  us  the  road  which  leads  from  the  lowest 
or  simplest  organisms  to  the  highest  or  most  complicated, 
and  the  goal  of  the  long  journey  is  faintly  seen  in  the 
perspective  in  the  revelation  of  the  causes  of  the  develop- 
ment of  the  organic  from  the  inorganic  world.  In  the 
experiment  with  which  we  are  dealing  the  intermediate 
links  are  omitted  or  are  sketched  in  the  faintest  colours, 
and  the  end  of  the  long  series  is  connected  directly  with 
the  beginning.  Our  author's  work  is  characterized  accord- 
ingly by  an  extraordinary  audacity  which  we  shall  better 
understand  if  we  are  content  to  regard  it  as  an  indication 
of  the  self-confidence  of  youth.  To  the  bright  hopes  of 
the  childhood  of  the  ages  which  no  failure  had  yet  availed 
to  dim,  the  ultimate  goals  of  science  may  well  have  appeared 
so  near  as  to  be  within  arm's  length.  The  author  of  the 
book  "On  the  Muscles"  is  just  such  a  disciple  of  nature- 
philosophy.  Countless  details  of  his  doctrine,  not  to 
speak  of  the  spirit  which  inspired  him,  show  him  plainly 
as  a  man  who  had  learned  from  Heraclitus,  Empe- 
docles,  and  Anaxagoras,  and  had  written  in  an  era  when 
the  eclectic  fusion  of  their  doctrines  had  already  begun. 
At  the  very  introduction  of  his  treatise  he  referred  to  the 
"  common  teachings  "  of  predecessors  to  whose  work  he  has 
contributed  his  part,  and  he  felt  himself  bound  to  premise 
as  much  "  about  heavenly  things "  as  was  necessary  to 
show  "what  man  and  the  other  animals  are,  how  they 
originated  and  arose,  what  is  the  soul,  what  health,  what 
sickness,  what  evil  and  good  in  man,  and  whence  death 
comes  to  him."  As  the  primary  principle  he  selected 
"the    warm,   which    is    immortal,    which    sees,    hears,    and 


294  GREEK   THINKERS. 

understands  all  things,  and  is  cognizant  of  the  present  and 
the  future."  Its  bulk  had  disappeared  into  the  heights  of 
celestial  space  in  consequence  of  that  "  concussion  "  of  the 
universe  which  he  agreed  with  Anaxagoras  and  Empedocles 
in  describing  as  the  starting-point  of  cosmic  phenomena, 
and  that  warm  he  states  to  be  what  the  ancients  had 
called  ^ther.  When  we  have  added  that  the  "  rotation  " 
of  cosmos  also  appeared  to  him  as  a  consequence  of  that 
concussion,  we  shall  have  carried  sufficiently  far  our  inves- 
tigation into  the  details  of  his  fundamental  doctrine. 

The  book  "  On  Muscles,"  with  its   somewhat  unfortu- 
nate title,  had  its  sequel  in  the  work   "On   the    Number 
Seven."     This  treatise,  the  bulk  of  which  has  only  been 
preserved  in  an  Arabic  and  a  Latin  translation,  need  not 
delay  us  very  long.     It  marks  the  most  flourishing  epoch 
in   the   popular   belief  in   the  wonderful   efficacy  of  that 
number.     Once  more  we  are  told  that  "the  embryo  takes 
shape  after  seven  days,  and  proves  itself  a  human  being." 
Once  more,  as  in  the  books  "  On  Diet,"  we  are  introduced 
to  the  "  seven  vowels  "  or  rather  the  seven  vocal  signs  of  the 
Greek  language,  among  which  c  and  6  are  included,  while  a 
and  I  and  y  are  absent,  because  in  the  Greek  alphabet  they 
happen  to  have  no   distinctive  symbols.     No  less  a  man 
than   Solon   had   already  considered   the  dominion  of  the 
number  seven  in  the  demarcation  of  the  ages  of  man,  but 
now  the  whole  world,  the  winds,  the  seasons,  the  human 
soul,  the  human  body,  the  functions  of  the  head,  each  and 
all   were   to   be    stamped    with    the    hall-mark    of   seven. 
Another  ruling  thought  in  this  treatise  has  likewise  been 
made  familiar  to  us  by  our  discussion  of  the  work   "  On 
Diet."     It  consists  in  the  comparison  between  the  individual 
and  the  universe,  the  analogy  between  the  microcosm  and 
the  macrocosm.     We  may  quote  at  this  point  our  author's 
own  words — 

"  Animals  and  plants  on  earth  have  a  constitution  which 
resembles  that  of  the  universe.  Wherefore,  since  the  whole  agrees, 
its  parts  must  likewise  show  the  same  composition  as  the  parts  of 
the  world.  .  .  .  The  earth,  being  firm  and  immovable,  resembles 
the  bones  in  its  stony  and  solid  parts.  .  .  .  That  which  surrounds 


EXCESSES   OF  IMAGINATION.  295 

them  is  like  the  soluble  flesh  of  man.  .  .  .  The  water  in  the  rivers 
resembles  the  blood  that  flows  in  the  veins," 

and  so  forth.  Both  thoughts  are  combined  in  the  almost 
ludicrous  comparison  of  the  earth  with  the  human  body, 
in  which  seven  parts  of  the  body  and  seven  parts  of  the 
earth  are  arbitrarily  selected  and  ranged  with  one  another. 
A  parallel,  for  instance,  is  discovered  between  the  Pelo- 
ponnesus as  "the  seat  of  high-minded  men  "  and  the  "head 
and  face,"  between  Ionia  and  the  diaphragm,  between 
Egypt  with  its  sea  and  the  belly.  These  and  similar 
excesses  of  an  unbridled  imagination  were  calculated  to 
produce  a  reaction.  There  is  nothing  like  them  in  history, 
except  perhaps  the  alchemy  of  the  Arabs  with  their  seven 
metals,  seven  stones,  seven  volatile  bodies,  seven  natural 
and  seven  artificial  salts,  seven  kinds  of  alum,  seven  chief 
chemical  operations,  etc.  The  reaction  that  ensued  marks 
the  first  dawn  of  the  true  science  of  Greece  and  the 
Western  world. 

5.  Without  soaring  aspiration  and  without  daring  deed 
there  is  no  science,  no  knowledge  of  nature.  The  conquest 
of  a  new  region  of  knowledge  resembles  in  many  respects 
the  occupation  of  virgin  territory.  First  come  the  road- 
makers,  who  unite  a  number  of  isolated  points  ;  then 
come  the  bridge-makers,  who  span  many  a  yawning  chasm  ; 
and  last  come  the  temporary  shelters,  which  must  ultimately 
be  replaced  by  statelier  buildings  on  deeper  foundations 
and  composed  of  more  durable  materials.  These  processes 
correspond  respectively  to  the  preliminary  generalizations 
restrained  by  no  manner  of  obstacles,  to  the  bold  argu- 
ments from  analogy,  and  to  the  first  construction  of  hypo- 
theses. But  woe  to  the  settlement  where  the  hand  of  its 
founders  has  been  guided  by  blind  enthusiasm  rather  than 
by  shrewd  calculation.  Traffic  will  retire  from  the  deserted 
streets,  palaces  will  fall  in  ruins,  and  the  homesteads  will 
remain  untenanted.  That  fate  threatened  the  intellectual 
achievements  of  the  epoch  with  which  we  are  dealing. 
The  apprentice-years  of  the  mere  collection  of  facts  were 
followed  by  the  Wandcrjahrc  of  vague,  restless  speculation. 


296  GREEK    THINKERS. 

These  had  now  lasted  long  enough,  and  it  was  time  for 
the  Meisterjahre  of  quiet,  methodical  research  to  succeed 
if  science  was  to  acquire  steady  and  sedentary  habits  instead 
of  losing  itself  in  a  maze  of  phantasies,  revolvmg  in  idle 
circles.  It  is  the  undying  glory  of  the  medical  school  of  Cos 
that  it  introduced  this  innovation  in  the  domain  of  its  art, 
and  thus  exercised  the  most  beneficial  influence  on  the  whole 
intellectual  life  of  mankind.  "  Fiction  to  the  right !  Reality 
to  the  left !  "  was  the  battle-cry  of  this  school  in  the  war  they 
were  the  first  to  wage  against  the  excesses  and  defects  of  the 
nature-philosophy.  Nor  could  it  have  found  any  more 
suitable  champions,  for  the  serious  and  noble  calling  of  the 
physician,  which  brings  him  every  day  and  every  hour  in 
close  communion  with  nature,  in  the  exercise  of  which  mis- 
takes in  theory  engender  the  most  fatal  practical  conse- 
quences, has  served  in  all  ages  as  a  nursery  of  the  most 
genuine  and  incorruptible  sense  of  truth.  The  best 
physicians  must  be  the  best  observers,  but  the  man  who  sees 
keenly,  who  hears  clearly,  and  whose  senses,  powerful  at  the 
start,  are  sharpened  and  refined  by  constant  exercise,  will 
only  in  exceptional  instances  be  a  visionary  or  a  dreamer. 
The  line  of  demarcation  dividing  reality  from  the  fictions  of 
the  imagination  is  dug  more  deeply  in  his  instance,  as  it  were, 
till  it  becomes  an  impassable  gulf  He  can  never  be  absent 
from  his  post  in  the  campaign  against  the  encroachments 
of  fancy  on  the  domain  of  reason.  Even  in  our  own 
century  we  have  to  thank  the  physicians  for  our  liberation 
from  the  tyranny  of  the  nature-philosophy.  The  bitterest 
denunciations  of  that  error  and  of  the  mischief  that  it 
works  still  proceed  from  the  lips  of  men  who  have  sat  at 
the  feet  of  Johannes  M tiller,  the  great  physiologist  and 
anatomist.  It  is  no  valid  argument  to  reply  that  there  is 
merely  a  nominal  and  external  likeness  between  the  nature- 
philosophy  of  Schelling  and  that  of  Heraclitus  or  Empe- 
docles.  The  point  to  be  remembered  is  that  the  defective 
logic  which  was  a  common  characteristic  both  of  the 
modern  and  of  the  ancient  schools  was  far  more  pardon- 
able and  comprehensible  in  the  earlier  than  in  the  latter 
growth.     The    signs   of   degeneracy,   of    reaction,    and    of 


REACTION  AGAINST  NATURE-PHILOSOPHY.     297 

senile  decay  in  the  one  are  but  the  natural  accompaniment 
in  the  other  of  the  slow  emancipation  of  science  from  the 
mythological  traditions  of  the  childhood  of  the  world.  But 
whether  the  light  was  newly  kindled,  or  whether  it  had 
long  been  burning  with  a  steady  flame,  the  shadows  that 
threatened  to  darken  it  had  to  be  dispelled  in  either 
instance. 

The  author  of  the  treatise  "  On  Old  Medicine  "  was 
the  first  to  open  the  campaign  along  the  whole  line  of 
battle.  With  a  deep  sense  of  the  dignity  of  his  calling, 
and  with  a  keen  appreciation  of  its  significance  for  the 
welfare  and  prosperity  of  mankind,  he  refused  to  be 
indifferent  to  a  movement  which  tended  to  degrade  its 
worth,  to  annul  the  distinction  between  good  physicians  and 
bad,  and — what  was  most  important — to  undermine  the 
structure  of  the  science  itself.  His  attack  was  not  directed 
at  isolated  details  in  the  system  of  his  adversaries  ;  he 
went  to  the  root  of  the  evil.  He  condemned  the  method 
of  the  "  riew-fangled  "  art  of  healing,  without  respect  and 
without  reserve.  The  science,  he  urged,  was  not  to  be 
founded  on  hypothesis,  though  this  was  the  primrose  path. 
It  was  taking  things  too  easily  to  assume — 

"  a  single  primary  cause  for  illnesses  and  for  death,  and  the  same 
cause  in  every  instance,  and  to  postulate  as  that  cause  one  or  two 
factors,  whether  the  warm  or  the  cold,  the  damp  or  the  dry,  or  any- 
thing else  that  occurred.  .  .  .  But  the  healing  art " — which  was  no 
pseudo-science,  and  had,  moreover,  to  deal  with  sensible  objects — 
"  possesses  all  things  from  of  old,  a  principle,  and  a  beaten  track 
along  which  in  the  course  of  ages  many  splendid  discoveries  have 
been  made,  and  along  which  the  science  will  be  perfected,  if  men 
of  adequate  talent,  equipped  with  the  knowledge  of  the  discoveries 
made  hitherto,  take  these  as  their  starting-point,  and  set  out  thence 
on  further  inquiries.  He  who  rejects  and  despises  all  this,  however, 
and  undertakes  his  investigations  on  another  road  and  in  other 
forms  and  claims  to  have  discovered  something,  he  is  deceived 
and  deceives  himself,  for  it  is  impossible." 

At  first  we  might  seem  to  be  listening  to  the  voice  of 
some  old  crusted  Tory  who  held  aloof  from  every  kind  of 


298  GREEK    THINKERS. 

innovation.  But  such  a  judgment  would  be  wholly  unjusti- 
fied. Our  author  was  fully  capable  of  defending  his 
exclusive  preference  for  the  old  empiric — we  do  not  say 
inductive — method.  He  began  by  pointing  to  its  merits, 
placing  them  in  the  clearest  light  by  extending  the 
conventional  bounds  covered  by  the  art  of  healing.  Nor 
was  it  merely  dietetics,  in  the  full  sense  of  that  term, 
which  he  regarded  as  a  constituent  branch  of  the  art.  He 
included  in  his  inquiry  the  transition  from  the  coarse 
nourishment,  which,  as  he  pertinently  remarked,  men  origi- 
nally shared  with  the  brute  creation,  to  the  refined  aiisine 
of  civilized  peoples.  This  transition,  which  we  take  as  a 
matter  of  course,  he  characterized  as  "a  great  invention, 
elaborated  and  perfected  in  the  course  of  centuries  with  no 
mean  display  of  intelligence  and  imagination."  Precisely 
parallel  to  the  experiments  by  which  the  indigestible  quality 
of  that  primitive  diet  had  been  proved  of  old  were  the  fresh 
experiments  which  enabled  the  physician  to  vary  the 
nourishment  appropriate  to  a  healthy  man  with  that  fit 
and  wholesome  for  an  invalid.  In  the  instance  of  the 
treatment  of  health,  every  one  was  more  or  less  an  expert, 
and  it  is  not  surprising  that  it  was  separated  from  the 
treatment  of  disease  which  demanded  professional  know- 
ledge. Nevertheless,  the  science  was  uniform,  and  its  process 
in  both  cases  was  precisely  the  same.  In  the  one  as  in  the 
other,  it  was  advisable  to  correct  the  foods  which  the  human 
body  could  not  assimilate  by  mixing  them,  mitigating 
them,  or  diluting  them,  so  that  the  healthy  organism  in 
the  one  case  and  the  diseased  organism  in  the  other  could 
master  them  and  derive  benefit  from  them.  Our  author 
next  turned  to  individual  difi"erences  in  matters  of  diet, 
which  he  illustrated  by  many  examples.  He  found  that 
they  rested  partly  on  original  distinctions  of  constitution  and 
partly  on  distinctions  of  habit.  They  were  not  reducible  to 
any  one  common  principle,  but  could  only  be  discerned  and 
taken  in  account  by  the  most  careful  and  unremitting  obser- 
vation. It  was  an  obvious  consequence  of  this  need  of  strict 
individual  treatment  that  precise  accuracy  could  not  always 
be  guaranteed.     Another  and  no  less  fruitful  source  of  error 


MEDICINE   AND    EXACT  SCIENCE.  299 

was  the  fact  that  there  are  dangers  of  a  precisely  opposite 
kind.  The  physician  was  bound  to  be  on  his  guard  against 
excess  as  well  as  against  defect,  against  a  too  strong  as  well 
as  against  a  too  weak  quality  of  the  means  of  nourishment. 
At  this  point  we  are  first  confronted  by  the  conception  of 
an  "  exact "  science — of  a  science,  that  is  to  say,  admitting 
determination  by  quantities.  In  its  present  stage  it  was 
purely  an  ideal,  the  attainment  of  which  in  the  realm  of 
dietetics  and  medicine  had  to  be  abandoned  on  the  spot. 
"  One  must  aim  at  a  standard,"  we  read,  "  but  a  standard, 
weight,  or  number  which  shall  serve  thee  as  a  sure  guide 
thou  shalt  not  find,  seeing  that  there  is  no  other  than  the 
sensibility  of  the  body."  And  precisely  because  this  was 
merely  an  approximate  standard  without  strict  exactitude, 
slight  divagations  to  the  right  or  the  left  of  the  mean  were 
practically  inevitable.  The  highest  praise  was  due  to  that 
physician  who  committed  merely  trivial  blunders  ;  the 
majority  were  like  those  steersmen  who  repeatedly  err  with 
impunity  in  a  quiet  sea  and  under  a  cloudless  sky,  but  whose 
mistakes  are  fraught  with  fatal  consequences  if  a  storm 
arise. 

The  new  medicine  was  swiftly  exposed  to  another  reproach 
of  more  incisive  importance.  Its  premises  and  precepts 
were  alleged  not  to  cover  the  actual  many-sidedness  of 
objects.  The  new-fangled  teaching — an  epithet  which 
applied  to  the  doctrine  of  Alcmaeon  as  well  as  to  that  of 
the  books  "  On  Diet " — recommended  the  application  of 
"  the  cold  against  the  warm,  the  warm  against  the  cold  ;  the 
moist  against  the  dry,  the  dry  against  the  moist."  Every 
time  that — 

"  one  of  these  factors  had  wrought  mischief,  it  was  to  ho 
corrected  hy  the  appUcation  of  the  opposite  factor.  .  ,  .  Eut  those 
physicians,  so  far  as  I  know,"  continued  our  autlior,  "  have  hithLrto 
discovered  or  invented  no  warm,  or  cold,  or  dry,  or  moist  wliich 
is  so  in  itself,  unalloyed  with  any  other  (juaHty.  It  is  rather  my 
opinion  that  they  are  acquainted  with  no  otlier  foods  and  drinks 
than  those  which  we  all  em[)loy.  It  is  imi)ossihle,  then,  for  them 
to  order  the  invalid  to  feed  on  a  'warm,'  for  he  would  instatitly 
ask,  On  what  kind  of  a   '  warm  '  ?     And  thereupon   they  would 


300  GREEK   THINKERS. 

have  recourse  either  to  empty  verbiage  or  to  one  of  the  substances 
with  which  we  are  famiUar." 

It  would  make  considerable  difference,  too,  whether  the 
"warm"  were  an  astringent  or  aperient,  or  which  of 
the  other  natural  qualities  it  possessed  ;  and  this  differ- 
ence in  effect  would  not  merely  apply  to  men,  but  to 
wood  and  leather,  and  many  other  objects  by  no  means 
as  sensitive  as  the  human  body. 

We  reach  now  the  most  important  part  of  the  book, 
in  which  the  fundamental  principles  of  our  author  came  to 
their  clearest  expression. 

"  Some  people  say,"  he  wrote,  "  physicians  as  well  as  sophists  " 
— by  whom,  as  we  conceive,  he  merely  meant  philosophers — "  that 
it  is  not  possible  to  understand  the  medical  art  except  by  learning 
what  man  is.  He  who  would  treat  men  in  the  right  way  must 
first  understand  this.  This  saying  of  theirs  is  directed  at  philosophy 
as  it  has  been  practised  by  Empedocles  and  others  who  have 
written  about  nature  and  have  discussed  the  origin  of  man,  how 
he  came  into  existence,  and  how  his  parts  were  joined  together. 
But  I  believe,"  he  continued,  "  that  all  that  sophists  or  physicians 
have  said  or  written  about  nature  belongs  less  to  the  art  of  medicine 
than  to  that  of  painting.  It  is  my  opinion,  on  the  contrary,  that 
certain  knowledge  about  nature  can  be  gained  from  no  other 
point  of  view  than  from  that  of  medical  science.  This  is  attainable, 
however,  by  any  one  who  chooses  to  approach  that  study  in  a 
proper  fashion,  and  with  regard  to  the  fulness  of  its  extent.  But 
it  seems  to  me  that  there  is  a  long  road  still  to  be  travelled  before 
that  degree  of  erudition  is  reached  which  shall  know  what  man 
is,  by  what  cause  he  was  created,  and  all  else  to  the  least  detail." 

We  may  pause  here,  not  unprofitably,  in  order  to  explain 
some  points.  Our  readers  will  note  the  almost  verbal 
resemblance  of  the  above  introductory  words  with  the 
passage  quoted  just  now,  at  the  beginning  of  section  4,  from 
the  work  "  On  Diet,"  where  the  proposition  that  is  here 
so  energetically  disputed  is  vindicated  with  equal  energy. 
We  can  hardly  fail  to  recognize  a  direct  polemical  intention, 
and  it  affords  a  glaring  instance  of  the  so-called  uniformity 
of  the  Hippocratic  canon.  The  mention  of  painting  in 
this  connection  gives  us  a  momentary  shock,  but  a  brief 


SCIENCE  AND   FINE   ARTS.  30I 

consideration  will  show  that  the  author  could  hardly  have 
chosen  a  more  appropriate  expression  for  his  thought. 
He  obviously  wanted  to  say  that  descriptions  of  the  origin 
•of  animals  and  men,  of  the  kind  attempted  by  Empedocles, 
might  be  attractive,  fascinating,  and  seductive,  but  they 
were  not  science.  Now,  the  contrary  of  science,  which 
aims  at  truth  rather  than  at  pleasure,  is  found  in  such 
cases  in  the  region  of  the  fine  arts,  inasmuch  as  the  im- 
agination can  deal  freely  therein  with  the  shapes  and 
colours  that  it  invents.  The  type  which  we  should  obvi- 
ously select  is  that  of  poetry,  but  it  would  have  been  out  of 
place  for  the  present  purpose  of  inveighing  at  the  contents 
of  the  work  of  Empedocles  on  account  of  the  poetic  form 
in  which  that  work  was  composed.  The  sharp  and  almost 
harsh  manner  in  which  our  author  contrasted  fiction  and 
fact,  and  dismissed  the  first  from  the  realm  of  serious  atten- 
tion, reminds  us  of  the  contempt  expressed  by  Herodotus 
about  the  stream  of  ocean,  and  quoted  by  us  at  the  close 
of  the  last  book.  We  should  be  glad  to  see  the  hint  that 
medicine,  practised  in  a  proper  fashion  and  in  its  full 
capacity,  is  the  beginning  of  all  true  knowledge  of  nature 
developed  more  fully  to  its  conclusions.  For  we  may 
almost  detect  in  the  saying  the  insight,  or  at  least  the 
conjecture,  that  all  our  knowledge  about  nature  is  relative, 
and  that  the  true  goal  of  human  inquiry  is  not  what  nature 
is  in  herself,  but  what  she  is  in  her  relation  to  man's 
perceptive  faculties.  This  at  least  is  the  trend  of  the 
sequel  of  this  important  passage,  with  which  we  hasten  to 
acquaint  our  readers  : 

"  For  to  me  too,"  continues  our  author,  "  it  seems  necessary 
that  every  i)hysician  should  i)ossess  knowledge  about  nature,  and 
that  he  should  give  himself  the  utmost  pains  in  that  respect  if  he 
wishes  to  be  equal  to  his  task.  He  must  know  tlie  relation  of 
man  to  the  food  and  drink  that  he  consumes,  and  to  all  else  tiiat 
he  does  and  practises.  He  must  know  what  effect  each  thing 
exercises  on  each  man.  Nor  is  it  enough  to  be  of  opinion  that 
cheese  is  a  bad  food  because  it  inconveniences  him  who  is  satiated 
with  it.  The  pliysician  must  know  what  kind  of  inconvenience  it 
produces,  and  what  is  its  cause,  and  with  wliat  pari  of  liie  human 


302  GREEK   THINKERS. 

body  it  fails  to  conform.  For  there  are  many  other  foods  and 
drinks  which  are  naturally  injurious,  which  yet  do  not  affect  men  in 
the  same  way.  Let  me  select  the  instance  of  wine,  which,  if  enjoyed 
unmixed  and  in  large  quantities,  will  affect  men  in  a  certain  way. 
And  observation  shows  to  all  that  this  is  the  work  and  the  effect 
of  wine.  We  know,  too,  through  what  parts  of  the  body  it  chiefly 
produces  that  result,  and  I  could  wish  that  equal  clarity  should  be 
shed  over  all  the  other  instances." 

These  remarks  too  require  a  word  of  explanation.     The 
first   point    to    be    noticed    is    the   incisive   and  doubtless 
deliberate  contrast  between  our  author's  everyday  language 
and  his  homely  example  and  the  high-flown  matter  and  no 
less  aspiring  manner  of  Empedocles  and  those  who  thought 
like  him.    We  can  conceive  the  anti-philosopher  addressing 
his  adversaries  in  this  wise :  "  I    too  am   striving   after  a 
comprehensive  knowledge  of  nature,  the  threads  of  whose 
most  intimate  secrets  ye  think  ye  have  already  unravelled 
and  proclaim  your  triumph  in  gorgeous  phrases.     But  how 
modest  are  my  immediate  ends,  how  far  I  remain  behind 
the  proud  flight  of  your  thought,  how  verily  I  creep  along 
the  ground  of  trivial  occurrences  and  everyday  questions 
which  have  yet  been  solved  but  in  the  smallest  proportion." 
Yes,  our  excellent  author  deemed  himself  as  free  as  possible 
from   the   taint   of  temerity  and   the   disease   of  scholar's 
pride,  and   yet  fate  overtook   him  precisely  at  that  point. 
The  bitter  contempt  that  he  poured  from  a  full  horn  over 
his  predecessors  was  avenged  by  fate  on  his  own  person, 
and  in  view  of  the  evidence  we  have  collected  as  to  the 
soundness  of  his  knowledge  we  are  well-nigh  tempted  to 
exclaim,  his  modesty  was   rooted   in  immodesty,  and   his 
was  the  pride  that  vainly  aped  humility.     The  modicum  of 
certain  knowledge  to  which  he   laid   claim  and  which  he 
considered  as  self-evident  truth  was  but  the  semblance  of 
knowledge.     For   since   he   was    entirely  ignorant   of  the 
chemistry  of  digestion  no  less  than   of  the  physiology  of 
the  brain,  the  heart,  and  the  blood-vessels,  his  explanations 
of  the  indigestibleness  of  cheese  and   of  the  intoxication 
produced  by  wine,  whatever  forms  they  may  have  taken, 
were  certainly  built  on  a  false  foundation. 


NATURE   OF  HYPOTHETICAL  RESEARCH. 


6^0 


We  are  startled  and  almost  confused  at  the  result  of 
the  preceding  investigation.  The  question  rises  to  our 
lips,  Was  it  all  in  vain — this  reaction  on  the  part  of  the 
clear-sighted  physician  against  the  arbitrary  methods,  his 
enthusiastic  return  to  the  genuine  evidence  of  facts,  and 
his  unremitting  polemic  against  those  of  his  predecessors 
who  had  "misled  the  art  of  medicine  from  its  ancient 
track  and  started  it  on  the  road  of  hypothesis  "  ?  For  he 
too  had  fallen  unwittingly  into  the  toils  of  hypothetical 
research,  nor  was  his  relapse  confined  to  a  few  false 
observations  more  or  less,  nor  to  the  misinterpretation  of 
isolated  facts  ;  it  involved  complete  explanatory  attempts 
proceeding  wholly  from  the  region  of  a  physiology  based 
on  hypothesis.  Let  us  guard  against  the  risk  of  mis- 
understanding. We  would  not,  therefore,  depreciate  or 
condemn  our  author's  achievements,  still  less  would  we 
brand  his  polemic  as  altogether  vain  and  ineffectual.  In 
order  to  frame  an  adequate  judgment,  we  must  make  a 
further  slight  digression  ;  and,  in  choosing  the  longer 
road,  we  may  hope  to  attain  to  a  height  from  which  we 
shall  be  able  to  form  a  truer  and  more  comprehensive 
appreciation  of  the  two  conflicting  tendencies  of  thought. 

6.  An  hypothesis  is  an  assumption  or  a  supposition. 
Where  and  as  long  as  full  certainty  of  knowledge  eludes 
us,  it  is  necessary  to  set  up  mere  assumptions.  That 
necessity  is  twofold.  It  is  indispensable  to  the  matter 
discussed  and  inevitable  to  the  man  discussing.  Humanly 
inevitable,  because  the  mind  has  not  yet  been  created 
which  can  receive  and  retain  a  long  series  of  details  with- 
out encircling  them  and  connecting  them  by  a  common 
bond.  Memory  craves  relief,  and  in  the  realm  of  the 
co-existence  of  phenomena  that  craving  is  satisfied  by 
classification,  whereas  in  the  realm  of  causal  succes- 
sion the  aid  of  hypothesis  has  to  be  invoked.  And 
if  the  demands  of  reason  and  of  the  causal  sense  possess 
sufficient  .strength  in  the  investigator's  mind,  they  cannot 
remain  idle  even  at  the  beginning  of  his  task.  Tenta- 
tively at  least,  hypotheses  must  be  formed  in  the  earlier 
stages   of   an    inquiry    which    shall   serve   as   the   rungs   of 


304  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  ladder  to  ascend  to  the  ultimate  goal.  It  has 
been  acutely  remarked  that  every  approved  theory  of 
to-day  was  at  one  time  an  hypothesis.  It  is  subjectively 
impossible,  in  dealing  with  the  countless  details  of  which 
a  comprehensive  theory  is  ultimately  to  be  composed,  to 
keep  them  during  its  construction  in  their  original  segrega- 
tion and  to  preserve  their  psychical  isolation  ;  and  a  similar 
objective  impossibility  would  attend  the  endeavour  to 
descry,  gather,  and  sift  the  elements  of  experience,  or  even 
to  create  them  by  the  artificial  means  provided  in  natural 
science,  unless  the  light  of  a  preliminary  hypothesis  were 
shed  over  the  path  of  the  investigator  to  guide  his  footsteps 
to  his  end.  Precisely  the  same  process  is  set  in  motion 
when  the  end  in  view  is  not  the  attainment  of  general 
truths,  but  the  ascertainment  of  single  occurrences.  Before 
a  judge  comes  to  consider  his  verdict  he  will  generally  have 
begun  by  considering  the  grounds  of  suspicion,  and  every 
such  ground  of  suspicion  is  expressed  in  a  supposition  or 
hypothesis.  Moreover,  if  his  mind  be  awake  through  the 
trial,  the  depositions  of  witnesses  and  the  other  evidence 
collected  on  the  basis  of  such  an  early  hypothesis  will  give 
rise  in  the  course  of  the  proceedings  to  ever-fresh  hypotheses, 
and,  supposing  him  to  have  a  logical  as  well  as  a  wakeful 
mind,  to  ever-fresh  and  more  exact  approximations  to  the 
ultimate  verdict  or  truth.  Two  causes  alone  can  affect 
the  value  of  the  preliminary  assumption  as  a  stage  on  the 
victorious  road  to  truth.  The  first  is  due  to  a  subjective 
error  to  be  traced  to  the  mind  of  the  inquirer,  and  the 
second  to  an  objective  defect  attaching  to  the  means  of 
inquiry.  The  hypothesis  will  obstruct  and  hinder,  instead 
of  facilitating,  the  attainment  of  a  final  solution,  if  the 
inquirer's  mind  be  lacking  in  the  requisite  pliability  and 
adaptability.  He  will  then  overlook  the  provisional  character 
of  his  assumptions  ;  he  will  disband  the  forces  of  his 
intellect  at  too  early  a  date,  and  will  mistake  a  portion  of 
his  journey,  and  a  very  short  portion  perhaps,  for  the  com- 
pletion of  his  task.  And  the  hypothesis  will  be  devoid  of 
scientific  value,  or  at  least  of  the  highest  scientific  value,  if 
it  be  intrinsically  incapable  of  emerging  from  a  provisional 


ITS  NECESSITY  AND   DANGERS.  305 

and  assumptive  truth  into  an  ultimate  and  definitive  one 
— in  other  words,  if  it  offer  not  the  least  handle  for  the 
purpose  of  verification.  It  would  be  idle  to  expect 
complete  clearness  on  this  and  on  kindred  questions  of 
method  from  the  earliest  author  who  offers  us  any  dis- 
cussion whatsoever  on  the  value  of  hypothetical  investiga- 
tions, and  who,  indeed,  as  far  as  any  record  has  come 
down  to  us,  is  the  first  to  have  used  the  word  "  hypothesis  " 
in  its  technical  sense.  The  greater  is  the  credit  that 
redounds  to  him  that  he  was  by  no  means  unfamiliar  with 
the  most  far-reaching  of  the  distinctions  that  are  here 
to  be  considered.  It  must  be  conceded  that  he  used  the 
word  "  hypothesis "  in  a  somewhat  loose  fashion,  without 
expressly  distinguishing  between  verifiable  and  non- 
verifiable  assumptions  ;  but  the  brunt  of  his  attack  fell  on 
the  second  of  these  classes,  which  was  more  or  less  the 
object  of  all  his  invectives  against  hypothetical  investiga- 
tion. For  when  he  argued  against  the  application  of  that 
new  method  to  medicine,  he  supported  his  cause  by  the 
following  significant  remarks :  that  science  needed  no 
"empty  hypotheses,"  he  wrote,  as  did — 

"  the  invisible  and  unfathomable  things.  Any  one  who  should 
attempt  a  description  of  such  things  would  have  to  avail  himself 
of  hypothesis.  Thus  with  regard  to  things  in  heaven  or  to  those 
under  the  earth.  And  even  though  he  knew  and  said  what  was 
correct  about  them,  yet  neither  he  nor  his  hearers  would  be  aware 
if  it  were  the  truth  or  not,  for  he  has  no  standard  which  he  can 
apply  in  order  to  attain  full  certainty." 

The  term  "  empty  "  in  this  connection  is  a  jewel  in  the 
crown  of  science.  It  is  meant  to  stigmatize  hypotheses, 
in  themselves  incapable  of  proof,  and  likened  to  idle 
fictions  which  are  refused  admittance  across  the  threshold 
of  genuine  science.  Let  us  renew  our  recollection  of  two 
similar  treasures  before  we  attempt  to  estimate  its  worth. 
There  was  first  the  passage  from  Xenophanes  *  which 
emphasized,  in  language  closely  similar  to  our  present 
quotation,    and  still  more    so   to  the  Greek    original,    the 

♦  Bk.  II.  Ch.  I.  §  3,//«. 
VOL.  I.  X 


306  GREEK    THINKERS. 

significance  of  verification  ;   and  there  was,   secondly,  the 
similarly  inspired  utterance  of  the  historian  Herodotus,  to 
which  we  have   already  had   occasion   to  refer.*      Taking 
these  in  account,  and  remembering  that  our  author's  feud 
against  hypothetical  investigation  was  essentially  directed 
at    a    special  kind  of  hypotheses,  we    see  that   there  was 
nothing  to  prevent  him  from  using  hypotheses  on  his  own 
account  without  incurring  the  charge  of  inconsistency.     It 
was  inevitable  that   he   should   have  formed   hypothetical 
conceptions  about  the  nature  of  the  digestive  process  and 
the   causes   of  drunkenness  ;  they  were   as   natural  to  the 
childhood   of  physiology   and    its    sister   sciences   as   was 
their  subsequent   correction   when   the    sciences    matured. 
But  it  is  one  thing  to  make  an  erroneous  hypothesis,  it  is 
quite    another   thing  to   make  an   unscientific   hypothesis 
which  is  entirely  or  partially  incapable  of  verification.     It 
may    be    urged    that    every    hypothesis     is     not     clearly 
brand-marked  as  unverifiable  or  the  contrary,  as  doomed 
to  remain    a    hypothesis    for   ever,    or    as   possessing   the 
power  to  develop    its   own    means    of    proving,    approxi- 
mately at  least,  its  truth   or  falsehood.      But  though  this 
is  generally  the  case,  it  is  not  universally  so.    These  retorts 
and  counter  retorts,  however,  need  not  occupy  us  long,  for 
"the  hot"  and  "the  cold,"  "the  dry"  and   "the  moist," 
as    the    fundamental    constituent    parts    of    the    human 
organism,  or  even  as  the  chief  factors  that  affect  it,  were, 
to  speak  precisely,  even  less  than  mere  hypotheses — they 
were  fictions,  or  rather  abstractions  disguised  as  realities. 
Certain    qualities  were   segregated   from    the  complex  of 
attributes  with  which   they  were  really  indissolubly    con- 
nected,   and    were    moreover   invested    with    a  supremacy 
that  did  not  reasonably  belong  to  them  ;  for  these  varia- 
tions of  temperature  and  of  the  state  of  aggregation,  which 
were  there  brought  into  play,  do  not  always  bring  in  their 
train  a  decisive  change  in  all  the  rest  of  the  attributes.     It 
was  one  of  the  great  positive  merits  of  the  treatise  which 
we  are  discussing,  that  it  emphasized  this  consideration  and 
hinted    at    the   comparatively   greater   significance  of  the 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  VI.  %\,fin. 


THE    CONFLICT   OF  METHODS.  307 

chemical  qualities  of  bodies,  throwing  at  the  same  time  a 
side  glance  at  the  influences  these  exercised  on  substances 
not  belonging  to  the  living  organism.  Our  author  was  there- 
fore justified  in  describing  heat  and  cold  as  qualities  which 
possess  a  comparatively  very  small  power  over  the  body, 
and  in  recalling  such  phenomena  of  reaction  as  the  effect 
of  inward  heat  produced  by  taking  a  cold  bath. 

But  it  is  time  to  abandon  these  details.  The  question 
whether  this  or  that  hypothesis  was  more  or  less  scientific 
in  character,  whether  a  greater  or  a  less  degree  of  legiti- 
macy attached  to  it,  is  not  as  important  to  our  purpose 
as  the  broad  conflict  of  methods  with  which  our  readers 
should  by  this  time  be  familiar,  and  which  presents  no 
very  great  difficulties.  The  rule  of  sound  common  sense, 
"  to  start  from  the  known  or  the  sensible  and  thence  to 
infer  the  unknown,"  was  as  obvious  to  Herodotus  and 
Euripides  as  at  a  later  date  to  Epicurus,  and  we  have  here 
to  remark  that  it  was  violated  quite  openly  and  crudely 
by  the  physicians  who  planted  their  footsteps  in  the  lines 
of  nature-philosophy.  Problems,  such  as  that  of  the 
origin  of  organic  life  or  of  the  human  race,  which  modern 
science  still  regards  as  insoluble,  were  placed  at  the  head 
of  their  programme,  and  medical  precepts  were  founded  on 
attempts  to  solve  them  which  bore  not  merely  a  hypothe- 
tical, but  a  fantastic  character.  We  cannot  affect  to  be 
surprised  that  a  reaction  should  have  set  in,  nor  should  we 
attempt  to  deny  that  such  a  reaction  was  wholesome.  Still, 
we  must  be  on  our  guard  against  one-sided  and  exaggerated 
views.  The  new  way  was  a  necessary  way,  and  it  would  be 
false  to  describe  it  as  wholly  and  solely  a  misleading  wa}-. 
It  was  inevitable  that  the  doctrines  of  nature-philosophy 
should  penetrate  the  several  sciences  and  begin  to  transform 
their  methods.  We  have  already  seen  reason  to  believe  that 
the  arbitrary  element  which  clung  to  most  of  those  theories 
was  bound  to  be  expelled,  but  its  elimination  did  not 
necessarily  destroy  all  the  effects  of  its  influence  ;  some  of 
them,  and  those  not  the  least  beneficial,  might  survive. 
Above  all,  an  ideal  that  has  once  been  erected,  however 
pitiable,  however  grotes([ue  its  subsec^uent  failure  may  be, 


308  GREEK    THINKERS. 

is  not  lost  to  posterity,  and  the  attempt  to  rescue  the 
science  of  medicine  from  the  isolation  which  threatened  to 
swallow  it,  and  to  regard  it  as  a  single  branch  on  the  great 
tree  of  universal  science,  was  at  any  rate  an  ideal.  At 
first,  it  must  be  conceded,  and  for  long  afterwards,  this 
ambitious  undertaking  failed  for  want  of  the  requisite 
foundations,  and  thus  a  return  became  necessary  which 
was  almost  equivalent  to  a  retreat  to  the  older  methods 
of  research  and  to  the  narrow  limits  in  which  they 
had  been  confined.  But  here  too  we  must  guard  against 
misunderstanding.  It  is  not  enough  to  summarize  the 
relation  between  the  two  conflicting  tendencies  in  the 
conventional  formula :  the  false  deductive  method  was 
buried  in  the  ruins  of  the  philosophical  theory  of  medicine, 
and  the  correct  inductive  method  was  borne  in  on  the 
triumph  of  Hippocrates.  For  in  dealing  with  highly  com- 
plicated phenomena,  with  aggregate  processes  composed 
of  innumerable  details,  no  other  method  is  recommended 
to  investigators  than  that  which  builds  up  the  whole  out 
of  its  parts,  and  refers  the  so-called  empiric  or  derivative 
laws  to  the  simple  or  ultimate  causal  laws  from  which 
they  spring.  The  secret  of  the  former  and  even  of  the 
present  employment  of  cruder  and  less  suitable  methods  is 
not  to  be  found  in  the  intrinsic  falsehood  of  the  deductive 
method.  It  is  rather  a  sign  that  that  method  can  only  be 
applied  with  success  in  an  infinitely  more  advanced  stage  in 
the  development  of  science,  and  an  indication  that  pathology 
was  then  found  wanting  in  its  anatomical  and  physiological 
basis,  and  that  physiology  then,  as  partly  even  now,  rested 
on  an  insecure  foundation  of  cellular-physiology,  of  physics, 
and  of  chemistry.  We  are  dealing  here  with  the  beginnings 
of  a  period  of  transition  which  has  continued  down  to  our 
own  times,  for  it  is  only  to-day  that  the  most  advanced 
portions  of  organic  science  admit  at  least  a  partial  use  of 
deduction,  and  have  thus  begun  to  enter  the  last  and 
highest  stage  of  scientific  treatment.  The  type  of  deduc- 
tion is  calculation,  and  calculation  is  most  fully  employed 
at  this  date  in  the  business  of  the  oculist,  so  far  as 
it   is  founded  on    optics.      But   there  are  other  branches 


THE    GLORY  OF  COS.  309 

of  therapeutics  in  a  high  degree  of  development  which 
rest  on  a  deductive  basis.  Take,  for  instance,  the  anti- 
septic treatment  of  wounds,  the  object  of  which  is  the 
destruction  of  micro-organisms  which  have  been  recognized 
with  complete  certainty  as  the  agents  of  disease — an  object 
which  is  attained  by  the  use  of  substances  the  chemical 
qualities  of  which  hold  out  with  equal  certainty  a  prospect 
of  the  desired  result.  This  method  offers  the  completest 
contrast  with  the  proceeding  in  cases  where  there  is  no 
clear  evidence  of  causation,  and  where  the  defect  cannot 
be  supplied  either  by  direct,  unequivocal,  and  drastic  cures 
— the  genuine  experimental  method, — nor  yet  by  the 
decisively  favourable  results  of  observations  taken  in  such 
numbers  as  to  eliminate  the  element  of  chance — in  other 
words,  by  the  statistical  method.  Those  are  the  medica- 
ments of  jiA\\c\\  it  is  correctly  said  that  they  are  "  re- 
commended to-day,  eulogized  to-morrow,  and  forgotten 
two  years  hence."  The  undying  glory  of  the  school  of  Cos 
does  not  rest  on  their  selection  and  use  of  methods  of  re- 
search better  in  themselves  or  nearer  to  ideal  perfection. 
Their  chief  title  to  esteem  is  rather  the  insight  they 
displayed  in  perceiving  that  the  premises  for  the  applica- 
tion of  the  deductive  method  were  not  yet  extant,  that 
they  had  not  even  come  in  view,  and  that  fantastic  con- 
ceptions were  taking  the  place  of  the  requisite  and  valid 
inductions.  The  pioneer  virtues  which  distinguished  the 
Coic  masters  from  their  opponents  were  a  self-abnegation, 
and  a  timely  renunciation  of  ambitions,  fascinating  enough 
and  even  exalted  in  themselves,  but  at  that  era  and  long 
afterwards  out  of  reach,  and  these  virtues  entitle  them  to 
our  ungrudging  admiration  at  this  day.  We  recognize  their 
supreme  merit  in  having  developed,  with  tireless  powers  of 
observation  and  extraordinary  faculties  of  clear  sight  and 
strong  sense,  those  branches  of  the  art  of  healing  which 
were  capable  of  extension  without  digging  their  foundations 
more  deeply.  Above  all,  we  may  specify  their  contributions 
to  symptomatology  which,  by  their  endless  supply  of  nice 
distinctions  and  acute  observations,  are  a  source  of  pleasure 
and  instruction  to  modern  students  of  that  branch  of  learning. 


310  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Unfortunately,  however,  they  could  not  wholly  renounce  the 
construction  of  comprehensive  theories.  They  too  dabbled 
in  hypotheses  which,  as  far  as  they  went,  were  as  fruitful  of 
errors  as  those  of  their  predecessors,  and  were  only  less 
fruitful  because  they  did  not  go  as  far.  Their  humoural 
pathology,  for  instance,  which  is  the  hall-mark  of  the  Hip- 
pocratic  school,  and  which  referred  all  internal  diseases 
to  the  constitution  and  proportion  of  the  four  presumable 
cardinal  humours,  possesses,  in  the  judgment  of  modern 
science,  not  a  jot  more  truth  than  the  anthropogony  of 
the  book  "  On  Muscles  "  or  the  fictitious  theory  of  matter 
which  was  combated  in  the  treatise  "On  Old  Medicine." 

7.  This,  then,  at  least  must  be  conceded.  The  genius 
of  the  physicians  of  Cos  was  fertile  in  generalizations  of  all 
kinds,  whether  true  or  false,  and  their  motive-power  may 
most  probably  be  traced  to  the  speculations  of  the  nature- 
philosophers.  This  "  old  medicine  "  of  the  alleged  reaction 
was  no  more  the  real  old  medicine  than  the  France  of  the 
Restoration  was  the  France  of  the  Ancien  Regime.  The 
goal  and  trend  of  the  movement  were  determined  hence- 
forth by  the  critical  sense  and  sceptical  genius  of  the 
Hippocratic  school.  At  an  early  date  it  assumed  as 
definite  an  attitude  towards  the  supernatural  theology  as 
it  had  already  assumed  towards  the  fantastic  excesses  of 
some  doctrines  of  the  nature- philosophy,  and  towards  those 
metaphysical  theories  which  transgressed  all  bounds  of 
experience.*  Here,  as  elsewhere,  we  are  struck  by  the 
contrast  between  Cos  and  Cnidus.  The  treatise  "  On  the 
Nature  of  Women,"  which  is  as  full  of  the  influence  of 
Cnidus  as  the  larger  work  "  On  the  Diseases  of  Women," 
to  which  it  went  back,  exalts  "  the  divine "  and  "  divine 
things "  to  a  place  of  differential  superiority  over  and 
above  all  other  factors.  "  The  divine  "  is  mentioned  at 
the  opening  of  the  Hippocratic  "  Prognosticon  "  as  an  agent 
of  occasional  efficacy,  so  little  removed  from  the  operations 
of  natural  law,  that  physicians  are  expressly  enjoined  to 
take  account  of  its  activity  in  their  "foresight."  But  in 
two  productions  of  the  Hippocratic  school  war  was  declared 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  I.  §3,y7;/. 


THE   HIPPOCRATICS  AND   ''THE  DIVINED    3II 

against  all  supernaturalism  with  extraordinary  energy. 
The  first  of  these  passages  is  to  be  found  in  the  book 
"  On  Water,  Air,  and  Sites,"  which  forms  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  pieces  of  the  Hippocratic  collection.  We 
are  there  listening  to  a  man  who  had  trodden  the  soil  of 
South  Russia  as  well  as  the  valley  of  the  Nile,  whose 
critical  eye  had  surveyed  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  cir- 
cumstances, and  whose  thoughtful  mind  had  endeavoured 
to  weave  the  countless  details  to  a  uniform  and  consistent 
design.  But  his  many  valuable  observations,  his  many  partly 
premature  conjectures  about  the  connection  between  climate 
and  health,  between  the  succession  of  the  seasons  and  the 
course  of  diseases,  these  were  all  surpassed  by  the  undying 
honour  that  attached  to  the  first  attempt  to  establish  a 
causal  bond  between  the  characters  of  nations  and  their 
physical  conditions.  We  may  call  the  writer  of  this  treatise 
the  precursor  of  Montesquieu,  and  the  founder  of  national 
psychology.  He  it  was  who,  in  discussing  the  so-called 
"  feminine  disease  "  of  the  Scythians,  uttered  an  energetic 
protest  against  the  assertion  that  this  or  any  other  illness 
was  the  effect  of  a  particular  divine  visitation,  and  in 
almost  precisely  the  same  words  the  notion  was  combated 
afresh  in  the  treatise  "  On  the  Sacred  Disease,"  by  which 
name  epilepsy  was  designated  in  popular  superstition  on 
account  of  its  supposed  divine  origin.  In  both  cases  alike 
the  denial  of  supernatural  intervention  was  accompanied 
by  an  expression  of  belief  in  the  strict  compatibility  of  a 
uniform  obedience  to  law  in  all  natural  phenomena  with 
the  religious  faith  in  a  divine  fountain-head  as  the  ultimate 
source  of  those  phenomena.  "  Everything  is  divine  and 
everything  is  human,"  thus  ran  the  wonderfully  suggestive 
formula  invented  by  the  author  of  the  work  "  On  the 
Sacred  Disease ; "  and  he  added  that  it  meant  nothing 
more  than  that  it  is  unreasonable  to  call  one  illness  more 
divine  than  another.  All  alike  were  caused  by  the  great 
natural  agents  of  heat  and  cold,  and  sun  and  winds,  all  of 
which  were  divine  in  their  nature,  but  no  one  of  which  in 
itself  was  "unfathomable  and  untractablc "  or  removed 
from   human    insight   and   human    influence.      And    a   yet 


312  GREEK    THINKERS. 

wider  generalization  was  promulgated  in  the  maxim,  "  The 
nature  and  cause  of  this  illness  arise  from  precisely 
the  same  divine  from  which  all  else  proceeds" — a  maxim 
reproduced  by  the  writer  of  the  book  "  On  Water,  Air, 
and  Sites  "  in  his  statement  of  belief  that  "to  me,  too,  these 
complaints  appear  divine,  and  all  others  likewise,  since  no 
one  is  more  divine  or  more  human  than  another.  Each  of 
them  possesses  nature  \i.e.  a  natural  cause],  and  no  one  of 
them  originates  without  it."  The  more  pugnacious  author 
of  the  work  on  epilepsy  gave  vent  to  discursive  and  scornful 
attacks  on  the  "  windbags  and  street-corner  prophets  "  who 
undertook  to  cure  diseases  by  their  superstitious  practices 
of  "  purifications  and  incantations,"  who  "  sought  to  conceal 
their  own  ignorance  and  impotence  under  the  mantle  of 
the  divine,"  and  who  might  be  shown  in  the  clear  light  of 
day  to  disbelieve  in  the  truth  of  their  own  teaching.  This 
last  was  the  sharpest  barb  in  our  author's  quiver  of  in- 
vectives : 

"  For  if  these  sufferings,"  he  wrote,  "  could  be  cured  by  the  purifi- 
cations and  the  rest  of  the  treatment  they  recommend,  what  should 
prevent  their  creation  for  the  infliction  of  mankind  by  other  similar 
contrivances  ?  But  then  their  cause  would  no  longer  be  divine,  but 
human,  for  the  physician  who  is  able  to  expel  a  disease  by  magical 
and  purificatory  means  could  introduce  it  by  setting  other  means  at 
work,  and  then  there  would  be  an  end  of  the  divine  and  of  its 
efficacy," 

The  same  argument  was  applied  to  the  whole  gamut  of 
proceedings,  which  rested  collectively,  as  he  asserted,  on 
the  supposition  that  there  were  no  gods,  or  that  they  were 
devoid  of  power : 

"  For  if  it  were  true,"  he  wrote,  "  that  a  man  could  fetch  down 
the  moon  and  make  the  sun  disappear,  could  summon  the  storm, 
and  recall  fair  weather  by  sacrifices  and  the  black  arts,  I  should 
hold  that  there  were  nothing  divine  in  all  that,  but  that  it  were  all 
human,  for  in  such  cases  the  power  of  the  divinity  would  be 
subdued  to  the  yoke  of  human  intellect." 

This  treatise  too,  we  may  remark  in  parenthesis,  is 
extremely  notable  for  its  reaffirmation  of  the  significance 


ESTIMATE    OF   VALUE   AND   RESULTS. 


6^0 


of  the  brain  in  the  physical  and  especially  in  the  psychical 
life.  The  discovery  had  been  made  by  Alcmaeon,*  but  it 
was  used  here  in  its  widest  extension  and  with  increased 
emphasis.  As  a  physician  our  author,  with  his  eclectic 
tendencies  in  philosophy,  was  not  a  pure  Hippocratic,  and 
he  was  led  to  this  important  digression  by  his  discovery, 
which  modern  science  has  confirmed,  that  epilepsy  springs 
from  a  disease  of  the  central  organ. 

We  might  close  the  present  section  at  this  point. 
Nothing  is  lacking  to  the  proof  of  the  contention  from 
which  we  set  out — that  the  study  of  medicine  was  the 
source  of  the  third  great  wave  of  criticism  which  poured 
its  fertilizing  stream  over  the  fields  of  Greek  learning. 
The  authors  of  the  book  "  On  Old  Medicine  "  and  the  two 
treatises  we  have  just  discussed  were  as  free  from  every 
taint  of  mythical  thought  as  Hecataius  or  Xenophanes — 
as  free,  or  actually  freer.  Nor  were  these  heralds  of  the 
dawn  content  with  banishing  from  their  minds  every  appeal 
to  primitive  modes  of  thought.  They  differed  from  their 
predecessors,  who  had  opened  the  epoch  of  transition,  in 
not  stopping  at  mere  negation.  They  unlocked  the  doors 
of  their  reflection  to  positive  methods  of  scientific  research, 
and  took  as  their  guiding  star  the  inspired  maxim  of 
Epicharmus,  the  philosophic  playwright  of  Syracuse : 

"  A  sober  sense  of  honest  doubt 
Keeps  human  reason  hale  and  stout." 

Nor  was  this  the  limit  of  their  achievement.  By  their 
theory  of  the  gods,  which  was  compatible  with  the  un- 
trammelled progress  of  knowledge,  they  paved  the  way  for 
every  conceivable  advance  ;  but  they  further  endeavoured 
to  assist  the  advance  themselves  by  their  not  inconsider- 
able successes  in  their  special  region  of  inquiry.  The 
proportions  of  the  present  work  do  not,  unfortunately, 
permit  us  to  bring  forward  the  evidence  for  this  view,  but 
we  are  reluctant  to  part  from  the  precious  collection  of 
the  Hippocratic  writings,  which  are  still  so  little  known 
and  appreciated,  without  offering  a  few  more  proofs  of 
Cp.  Bk.  I.  Ch.  V.  §  5,  /////. 


314  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  sound  scientific  spirit  which  penetrates  a  considerable 
portion  of  them.  One  of  the  most  generous  marks  of 
that  spirit  is  a  respect  and  appreciation  for  great  thoughts 
which  derive  their  descent  from  an  opposite  or  hostile 
school,  and  thus  we  find  the  valuable  doctrine  of  the 
necessary  equilibrium  between  exercise  and  nourish- 
ment, which  was  taught  by  the  physicians  of  Cnidus, 
reappearing  in  the  work  "  On  Diet  in  Acute  Illnesses," 
though  it  opened  with  a  bitter  polemic  against  the  cJief 
dixiLvre  of  that  school,  "The  Cnidian  Sentences."  The 
author  in  that  instance  was  as  innocent  of  vain  pretensions 
to  originality  as  he  was  free  from  the  vulgar  eagerness  for 
cheap  and  superficial  triumphs.  He  displayed  a  genuine 
spirit  of  research  in  his  endeavour  to  strengthen  the  doctrine 
which  he  was  combating  by  fresh  and  weighty  arguments, 
as  when  he  wrote  in  one  place,  "my  opponent's  view  will 
be  assisted  by  the  following  consideration."  No  less 
sturdy  and  incorruptible  was  the  instinct  for  the  truth 
evinced  by  the  author  of  the  work  "  On  the  Joints,"  which 
Littre  characterized  as  "  the  great  surgical  monument  of 
antiquity  and  a  model  for  all  future  ages."  The  writer,  a 
physician  of  noble  mind  and  lofty  thought,  did  not 
shrink  from  recording  his  own  failures  for  the  informa- 
tion of  his  fellow-investigators.  In  the  immortal  language 
in  which  one  such  passage  was  composed,  we  read,  "  I 
have  written  this  down  deliberately,  for  it  is  valuable  to 
learn  of  unsuccessful  experiments,  and  to  know  the  causes 
of  their  non-success."  In  that  instance  he  was  obviously 
anxious  to  withhold  no  means  to  knowledge  from  the 
service  of  those  who  came  after  him  ;  and  in  another  he 
exceeded  the  wonted  limits  of  didactic  writing  on  account 
of  his  desire  to  protect  the  patient  from  any  burden  that 
could  possibly  be  avoided  : 

"  It  may  be  urged,"  he  wrote,  "  that  such  questions  lie  outside 
the  precincts  of  medicine,  for  what  profit  is  there  in  a  further  study 
of  cases  that  have  already  become  incurable  ?  Such  arguments,  I 
answer,  are  very  wide  of  the  mark.  In  curable  cases  all  pains 
must  be  used  to  prevent  their  becoming  incurable ;  but  incurable 


FIRST  COMPARATIVE   ANATOMIST.  315 

cases  must  be  recognized  as  such,  in  order  to  save  the  sick  man 
from  useless  maltreatment." 

Nor  was  he  otherwise  disposed  to  spare  his  own  exertions. 
He  had  the  joy  of  work  which  is  a  true  mark  of  genius. 
In  this  way  he  extended  anatomical  research  from  the 
human  to  the  animal  creation  ;  he  compared  the  structure 
of  the  human  skeleton  with  that  of  other  vertebrate 
animals,  and  two  passages  in  his  work  speak  so  eloquently 
of  the  grandeur  of  this  attempt  that  we  do  not  hesitate  to 
entitle  him  an  early  if  not  the  earliest  pioneer  of  compara- 
tive anatomy.  But  we  conclude  by  citing  an  important 
generalization  due  to  the  same  powerful  intellect,  the 
brilliancy  of  which  is  testified  by  the  wide  range  that  it 
described,  by  the  evidence,  constantly  increasing,  of  the 
truth  of  its  contents,  and  by  the  deep  significance  of  its 
consequences.  We  refer  to  the  maxim  touching  the 
necessity  of  function  for  the  preservation  of  health  in  an 
organ. 

"All  parts  of  the  body,"  he  wrote,  "which  are  designed  for  a 
definite  use  are  kept  in  health,  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  fair  growth 
and  of  long  youth,  by  the  fulfilment  of  that  use,  and  by  their  appro- 
priate exercise  in  the  employment  to  which  they  are  accustomed. 
But  when  they  are  disused  they  grow  ill  and  stunted,  and  become 
prematurely  old." 


3l6  GREEK    THINKERS. 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE   ATOMISTS. 

1.  At  an  early  date  rumour  was  busily  engaged  in  spinning 
threads  of  intercourse  between  "  the  father  of  medicine " 
and  the  man  whom  we  may  call  the  father  of  physics. 
The  worthy  citizens  of  Abdera  had  been  alarmed  by  the 
strange  conduct  of  their  great  countryman  Democritus,  so 
they  summoned  the  master  of  the  art  of  healing  to  examine 
his  mental  condition.  The  master  came,  convinced  them 
of  their  error,  and  enjoyed  an  instructive  intercourse  with 
the  sage,  which  was  presently  continued  by  letter.  Their 
correspondence  formed  a  romance  in  letters,  which  the 
Hippocratic  collection  has  preserved  to  us,  and  which 
may  to  a  certain  extent  be  the  mirror  of  genuine  facts. 
It  is  at  least  in  the  highest  degree  probable  that  two 
philosophers  born  in  the  same  year — 460  B.C. — and  both 
of  them  great  travellers,  should  have  been  brought  into 
personal  contact.  It  is  clear,  too,  that  Hippocrates  was 
actually  at  one  time  in  Abdera.  We  are  still  able  to 
accompany  him  on  his  round  of  professional  visits  that 
took  him  by  turns  to  the  Thracian  Gate,  the  Sacred  Way, 
and  the  High  Street.  And  thus  there  may  be  an  element 
of  truth  in  the  legendary  picture  of  the  house  and  garden 
in  the  shadow  of  a  tower  of  the  city  wall,  with  the 
umbrageous  plane-tree  beneath  whose  spreading  foliage 
the  great  sage  of  Abdera  used  to  sit  and  write  with  his 
knee  for  a  table,  surrounded  by  his  scrolls  and  by  the 
anatomical  specimens  at  which  he  was  at  work. 

The  wealthy  commercial  colony  of  Abdera  had  been 


LEUCIPPUS  AND   HIS   DISCIPLE.  317 

founded  by  lonians.  It  was  situated  opposite  the  island 
of  Thasos,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  lucrative  gold-mines 
on  the  borders  of  Thrace  and  Macedonia,  and  it  played 
a  short  but  exceptionally  brilliant  part  in  the  history  of 
Greek  learning.  It  is  associated  with  the  name  of 
Leucippus,  the  friend  and  teacher  of  Democritus,  who 
was  older  than  his  pupil  by  a  score  or  so  of  years.  For, 
though  the  master  was  probably  born  at  Miletus,  and 
enjoyed  instruction,  according  to  trustworthy  evidence, 
at  Elea,  under  the  sharp-witted  Zeno,  yet  he  certainly 
died  in  the  city  of  Abdera,  and  founded  there  the  school 
to  which  his  disciple  Democritus  lent  imperishable  fame. 
The  figure  of  the  teacher  has  been  dwarfed  by  the  giant 
proportions  of  the  pupil,  and  his  few  literary  remains  were 
included  in  the  comprehensive  collection  of  the  works  of 
Democritus.  Even  in  antiquity,  his  personality  and  the 
more  intimate  circumstances  of  his  life  were  so  little 
known,  that  doubts  were  even  expressed  as  to  his 
historical  reality.  Still,  we  may  assert,  on  the  evidence 
of  few  witnesses  but  fit,  that  Leucippus  devised  the  plan 
of  the  building  which  Democritus  completed,  adorning  it 
with  an  inexhaustible  wealth  of  facts  based  on  experience, 
and  composing  it  with  a  literary  art  which  made  him 
a  master  of  Greek  prose.  To  Leucippus  we  owe  the 
sentence  in  which  the  universal  rule  of  causation  was 
proclaimed  in  unequivocal  language :  "  Nothing  happens 
without  a  cause,  but  everything  with  a  cause  and  by 
necessity."  His  book,  "On  the  Order  of  the  Universe," 
which,  to  distinguish  it  from  the  smaller  compendium  on 
the  same  subject  by  Democritus,  was  known  as  "  The  Great 
Order  of  the  Universe,"  contained  the  essence  of  atomic 
physics,  and  his  treatise  "  On  the  Mind,"  doubtless  sup- 
plied the  outline  of  the  psychology  of  the  school.  Time 
has  robbed  us  of  the  privilege  of  considering  apart  the 
intellectual  legacies  of  these  two  men.  We  are  therefore 
compelled  to  renounce  such  distinctions,  and  to  discuss 
the  atomic  theory  as  a  whole.  But  we  may  pause  at  the 
outset,  to  glance  at  the  personal  characteristics  of  its 
younger  and  far  more  famous  representative. 


3lo  GREEK   THINKERS. 

We  possess  some  valuable  material  for  this  purpose, 
and  our  first  evidence  may  be  taken  down  at  the  lips  of 
Democritus    himself. 

"  I  am  the  most  travelled,"  he  wrote,  "  of  all  my  contemporaries  ; 
I  have  extended  my  field  of  inquiry  wider  than  any  one  else  ;  I  have 
seen  more  countries  and  climes,  and  have  heard  more  speeches 
of  learned  men.  No  one  has  surpassed  me  in  the  composition  of 
lines  accompanied  by  demonstration,  not  even  the  Egyptian 
knotters  of  ropes,  or  geometers." 

The  emphasis  that  was  laid  here  on  the  mere  scope  of 
his  culture  and  achievements  is  in  full  accord  with  our 
conception  of  the  man  in  whom  we  recognize  less  of  the 
initiative  faculty  of  invention  than  of  the  erudition  that 
continues  and  expands  it.  Nor  should  we  be  repelled  by 
the  boastful  tone  that  is  taken.  Lessing  said,  with  a  very 
slight  exaggeration,  that  "  politeness  was  a  thing  unknown 
to  the  ancients,"  and  his  saying  might  be  transferred  to 
modesty  with  even  better  right.  Besides  the  example  before 
us,  the  instance  of  Empedocles  will  be  fresh  in  our  readers' 
memory,  and  there  is,  further,  the  case  of  Thucydides,  whose 
cooler  judgment  weighed  his  words  more  carefully,  and  who 
yet  did  not  hesitate  to  entitle  his  history  "  a  possession  for 
all  time."  Moreover,  Plato  himself,  who  eclipses  himself 
in  his  Dialogues  so  completely  behind  Socrates  his  master, 
felt  no  constraint  in  quoting  a  verse  in  which  he  and  his 
brothers  were  described  as  "  the  god-like  issue  of  a  glorious 
father."  Another  circumstance,  too,  should  be  taken  in 
account  in  considering  the  self-praise  of  Democritus.  He 
appears  as  long  as  he  lived  to  have  enjoyed  a  purely  local 
reputation.  "  I  came  to  Athens,  and  no  one  knew  me,"  so 
runs  a  second  fragment  of  autobiography,  and  it  may  well 
have  been  his  resentment  at  finding  himself  still  unknown 
in  the  capital  of  the  Greek  intellect,  despite  his  enormous 
exertions  and  achievements,  that  induced  him  to  blow  his 
own  trumpet.  Be  that  as  it  may,  his  fame  was  at  least 
well  earned.  He  had  trodden  with  equal  vigour  all  the 
paths  of  learning,  from  mathematics  and  physics  to  ethics 
and  poetics.     His  writings  were  almost  innumerable,  and 


DEMOCRITUS  AND   HIS   ''HYPOTHESIS:'       319 

we  may  quote  the  testimony  of  Aristotle  to  the  intellec- 
tual value  of  their  contents.  That  most  competent  and 
impartial  critic  did  not  hesitate  to  declare  of  Democritus 
that  no  one  before  him  had  "  dealt  with  growth  and  change 
except  in  the  most  superficial  way."  In  this  connection  he 
spoke  of  him  as  a  man  who  seemed  "  to  have  thought  about 
everything."  And  not  his  piety  towards  his  master  Plato, 
not  the  deep  gulf  of  dissent  that  divided  him  from  the 
atomists,  prevented  him  from  crowning  Democritus  and 
Leucippus  at  the  expense  of  Plato  with  an  incomparable 
crown  of  eulogy.  Their  theory  of  nature,  too — such  is  the 
drift  of  his  remarks — was  marred  by  great  defects,  but  it 
was  based  on  an  hypothesis  ripe  with  valuable  conclusions. 
The  following  was  the  difference  to  be  noted.  The  habit 
of  natural  observation  induced  the  faculty  of  building 
hypotheses  to  connect  long  series  of  facts  with  one  another. 
That  faculty  was  diminished  by  predominant  intercourse 
with  mere  concepts  which  alienates  us  from  reality,  contracts 
our  vision  on  a  narrow  circle  of  facts,  and  leads  us  through 
such  straits  of  observation  to  the  formation  of  inadequate 
theories. 

2.  With  that  "  hypothesis "  we  are  now  concerned. 
Its  non-hypothetical  basis,  however,  must  be  our  first  con- 
sideration. It  belongs  to  the  theory  of  knowledge  and  to 
the  attempt  to  solve  the  problem  of  matter.  We  left  that 
problem  in  a  parlous  condition  in  the  hands  of  Anaxa- 
goras,  and  have  lost  sight  of  it  since  then.  It  was  torn 
asunder  by  claims  of  equal  weight  which  were  at  once 
unreconciled  and  irreconcilable.*  One  of  two  courses 
was  open  to  it — to  renounce  cither  qualitative  constancy 
or  the  internal  inter-dcpendencc  of  substances.  The 
alternative  left  was  between  one  or  very  few  elements  of 
desultorily  changing  equalities  and  numberless  primary 
substances  foreign  to  one  another  and  with  no  kind  of 
bond  of  relationship,  nor  was  there  any  other  choice. 
We  have  already  remarked  by  anticipation  that  the 
school  of  Abdera  came  to  the  rescue  here,  and  i)ut  an 
end  to  that  fatal  dilemma.*  The  glory  of  the  act,  as 
*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  IV.  iJ4. 


320  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Aristotle  leads  us  to  believe,  belongs  to  the  mind  of  Leu- 
cippus,  but  we  know  the  epoch-making  theory  only  in  the 
form  in  which  it  was  clothed  by  Democritus.  /  "  According 
to  convention,"  he  said,  "  there  are  a  sweet  and  a  bitter,  a 
hot  and  a  cold,  and  according  to  convention  there  is  colour. 
In  truth  there  are  atoms  and  a  void.'/'  Let  us  first  leave 
the  atoms  and  the  vacuum  out  of  account,  and  then  turn 
to  the  significant  negative  portion  of  the  passage.  We  say 
"the  negative  portion,"  because  the  stress  laid  on  what 
exists  in  truth  can  imply  nothing  else  than  that  the  first- 
named  qualities,  temperature,  colour,  and  taste,  and,  let 
us  add,  smell  and  sound,  are  denied  objective  truth.  In 
this  connection  the  expression  "  according  to  conven- 
tion "  requires  a  few  words  to  make  it  clear.  The  contrast 
between  nature  and  convention  was  familiar  to  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  that  age.  Men's  conventions — their  habits, 
customs,  and  laws — changing  and  varying  from  city  to 
city,  from  country  to  country,  and  from  generation  to 
generation,  were  then  a  favourite  type  of  contrast  with  the 
unchangeableness  of  nature.  Thus  convention  became  as  it 
were  the  symbol  of  the  changeable,  the  arbitrary,  and  the 
accidental.  With  respect  to  the  perceptions  of  the  senses, 
there  were  numerous  observations  at  the  disposal  of  Demo- 
critus to  convince  him  of  their  dependence  on  the 
respective  constitutions  of  individuals,  on  the  variations 
in  the  conditions  of  the  same  individual,  and,  finally, 
on  the  multifarious  forms  assumed  by  the  same  particles 
of  matter.  Thus  a  jaundiced  subject  feels  a  bitter  taste 
in  honey,  the  degree  of  cold  or  heat  in  air  or  water 
is  determined  by  whether  or  not  we  ourselves  are  warm, 
many  minerals  display  different  colour^  before  and  after 
pulverization,  and  so  forth  through  countless  examples. 
We  who  command  the  resources  of  a  modern  vocabulary 
have  learnt  to  express  these  differences  in  more  appropriate 
language.  We  distinguish  between  relative  and  absolute 
qualities,  between  subjective  and  objective  truth.  Our 
analysis  has  struck  deeper  roots.  It  has  discovered  at  least 
a  subjective  element  in  the  so-called  objective  or  primary 
qualities  of  things,  and,  on  the  other  hand,  it  has  left  us  no 


DEMOCRITUS   AND    GALILEI.  32 1 

shadow  of  doubt  that  the  production  of  the  infinite  varieties 
of  subjective  impressions  is  not  an  anarchical  process,  but 
is  indissolubly  bound  by  strict  laws  of  causation.  The 
discovery  of  that  subjective  element  in  the  objective  qualities 
of  things  will  occupy  us  at  a  later  period,  when  we  reach 
the  so-called  Cyrenaic  philosophers,  of  whom  Berkeley 
and  Hume  were  the  intellectual  heirs,  and  we  shall 
presently  see  that  Democritus,  no  less  than  his  modern 
successors,  Thomas  Hobbes  or  John  Locke,  was  familiar 
with  the  second  of  these  discoveries.  Nay,  even  the 
indefeasible  validity  of  the  law  of  causation  as  taught  by 
Leucippus  admitted  no  exception  whatsoever.  On  the 
present  occasion,  however,  Democritus  was  merely 
concerned  to  give  utterance  as  emphatically  and  un- 
reservedly as  possible  to  a  novel  truth  of  fundamental 
importance.  A  striking  parallel  is  supplied  by  the 
manner  in  which  another  and  perhaps  yet  greater  thinker 
seized  and  expressed  the  same  fundamental  principle.  The 
following  words,  in  which  it  might  be  erroneous  to  trace 
the  influence  of  Democritus,  occur  in  the  polemic  entitled, 
"  The  Assayer,"  and  written  *  by  Galileo  Galilei : — 

"  If  I  represent  a  material  or  bodily  substance  to  myself,  I 
cannot  but  represent  it  as  bounded  by  limits  and  as  possessed  of 
this  or  that  shape,  .  .  .  situated  in  this  or  that  spot,  ...  as  at  rest 
or  in  motion,  as  touched  or  not  touched  by  another  body,"  and  so 
forth.  At  the  same  time  he  was  equally  convinced  "  that  those 
tastes,  smells,  colours,  etc.,  in  relation  to  the  object  in  which  they 
appear  to  reside  are  notliing  but  mere  names  {iionsicno  altro  che puri 
iiomi)." 

Across  the  twenty-two  centuries  that  stretched  between 
these  giants  of  thought  Democritus  and  Galilei  were  both 
fully  aware  that  the  so-called  secondary  qualities  of  things 
were  more  than  mere  arbitrary  assumptions,  conventional 
opinions,  or  appellations.  Still,  their  agreement  was  not 
confined  to  the  promulgation  of  that  highly  important 
distinction.     They  agreed,  too,  in  proclaiming  it  in  a  manner 

*     1623    A.IJ. 
VOL    T.  Y 


32  2  GREEK    THLWKERS. 

which  was  eminently  liable  to  produce  a  false  and  mis- 
leading impression,  so  far,  at  least,  as  it  was  not  corrected 
by  other  of  their  own  utterances.  And  seldom  or  never, 
we  may  add,  have  new  fundamental  truths  made  their 
entry  in  the  world,  or  even  in  the  minds  of  their  inventors, 
in  a  less  objectionable  form. 

But  it  is  full  time  to  pass  from  the  outward  shape  of 
the  doctrine  to  the  more  interesting  consideration  of  its 
intrinsic  meaning.  Its  appearance  meant  the  disappear- 
ance of  the  stumbling-block  at  which  investigation  had 
halted  so  long.  The  maturity  of  research  had  arrived, 
and  it  was  no  longer  a  matter  of  vexation  that  the  leaf 
which  was  green  to-day  should  be  yellow  to-morrow  and 
brown  the  day  after.  The  old  obstacles  were  removed 
from  the  path  of  the  inquirer,  and  he  saw  with  indifference 
that  the  blossom  faded  and  that  its  fragrance  departed,  or 
that  the  savour  of  fruit  was  turned  to  gall  when  it  began 
to  rot.  Moreover,  Zeno's  paradox  of  the  grain  of  millet 
lost  its  point  and  perplexed  no  one  any  more,  for  all  these 
qualities  of  things  were  divested  of  their  objective  validity, 
and  were  expelled  from  the  realm  of  reality.  Here,  we 
may  remark  in  parenthesis,  we  perceive  a  clue  to  the 
possibility  that  Leucippus  had  received  from  Zeno  the 
impulse  that  led  to  his  solution  of  the  problem  of  matter. 
But  be  that  as  it  may,  a  true,  solid,  unchangeable  object 
of  cognition  in  the  corporeal  world  had  at  last  been 
gained,  and  persistent  matter  stood  out  as  the  genuine 
reality  in  opposition  to  the  volatile  and  variable  qualities 
of  sensation  which  we  call  secondary,  and  which  are  not 
properly  the  attributes  of  objects.  The  individual  bodies, 
as  the  constituent  parts  of  such  matter,  were  distin- 
guished from  one  another  by  their  sizes  and  shapes  alone, 
inclusive  of  their  degree  of  capacity,  determined  by  the 
size  and  shape,  to  exert  an  effect  on  other  bodies  by  impact 
and  pressure. 

These  fundamental  differences  of  bodies  have  been  ex- 
pressed more  clearly  by  Democritus  with  respect,  too,  to  their 
reciprocal  relations.  He  drew  the  following  distinctions, 
which  he  stamped  with  particular  technical  terms.     Thus 


ATOMISM  AND   IONIAN  PHYSIOLOGY.         323 

there  were  (i)  the  shape,  including  size,  we  may  add  ;  (2)  the 
arrangement ;  and  (3)  the  position  of  bodies.  When  Aris- 
totle took  up  the  theme,  he  visualized  these  three  concep- 
tions by  examples  which  he  borrowed  from  the  shapes 
of  the  letters  in  the  Greek  alphabet.  The  difference  of 
shape  he  illustrated  by  the  opposition  of  A  and  N  ; 
that  of  arrangement,  which  Democritus  called  "contact," 
by  the  double  symbol  of  AN  and  NA  ;  and  that  of  position, 
which  Democritus  called  "turning,"  by  the  conversion  of 
N  to  Z.  It  must  be  remarked,  however,  that  Democritus 
was  not  considering  the  great  material  structures  which  rise 
into  the  sphere  of  visibility  and  were  spoken  of  by  him  as 
"  apparent  to  the  eye  ;  "  he  had  in  view  rather  the  minutest 
constituent  parts  of  those  structures,  which  were  no  longer 
perceptible,  but  were  merely  to  be  inferred  under  the  names 
of  "  atoms,"  or  "  indivisibles."  It  may  be  asked  how  he 
and  Leucippus  reached  their  assumption  of  atoms  and 
their  peculiar  employment  of  the  conception  of  a  vacuum  ; 
nor  can  this  question  be  answered  without  reminding  the 
reader  of  some  part  of  their  former  knowledge.  For  here, 
as  elsewhere,  their  theory  was  the  sum  of  the  labours  of 
their  predecessors.  Atomism,  we  may  state  with  all  pos- 
sible emphasis,  was  the  ripe  fruit  on  the  tree  of  the  old 
doctrine  of  matter  which  had  been  tended  by  the  Ionian 
physiologists. 

We  revert,  then,  to  the  Ionian  schools.  When  Anaxi- 
menes  explained  the  changes  in  the  form  of  his  primary 
matter  by  condensation  and  rarefaction,  when  he  taught 
that  its  fundamental  form  proceeded  intact  from  each  suc- 
cessive variation,  the  thought  must  plainly  have  dawned 
on  him  that  minute  imperceptible  particles  were  there  at 
work,  now  coming  closer  together  and  now  departing  from 
one  another.*  Again,  when  Heraclitus  proclaimed  his 
doctrine  of  the  ceaseless  transformation  of  things,  and 
declared  the  uninjured  existence  of  an  individual  object 
to  be  a  mere  delusion  brought  about  by  the  constant 
accession  of  fresh  particles  in  the  place  of  those  that  had 
been  severed,  he  was  obviously  assuming  the  presence  of 
*  15k.  I,  Ch.  I.  §4. 


324  GREEK    THINKERS. 

invisible  parts  of  matter  as  well  as  of  their  invisible  move- 
ments.* And  finally,  when  Anaxagoras  complained  of  the 
"weakness"  of  our  senses,  when  he  combined  in  every 
corporeal  structure  an  infinite  number  of  "  seeds  "  or  of  the 
minutest  primary  particles,  and  made  the  appearance  of  the 
structure  depend  on  the  predominance  of  one  sort  of  those 
particles,!  he  was  stating  in  unambiguous  words  the  very 
doctrine  which  inference  alone  enables  us  to  attribute  to  his 
two  predecessors.  Nor,  indeed,  do  we  feel  the  remotest 
surprise  at  the  early  appearance  of  beliefs  which  must  have 
been  induced  every  day  and  all  day  by  common  observa- 
tion. Take,  for  instance,  the  example  of  a  piece  of  linen  or 
cloth  which  has  been  soaked  by  the  rain  and  dried  by  the 
returning  sun ;  the  watery  particles  with  which  it  was 
drenched  have  taken  their  departure,  though  no  eye  saw 
them  departing.  Or  take  the  example  of  a  scent-bottle 
which  has  perfumed  the  room  in  which  it  is  kept,  though  no 
one  has  seen  the  particles  that  convey  the  fragrance  distribu- 
ting themselves  through  the  room,  while  its  contents  have 
nevertheless  been  gradually  diminished.  These  experiences 
and  others  of  equally  frequent  occurrence  secured  the  admis- 
sion of  invisible  ways  or  paths  besides  the  invisible  particles 
and  movements,  breaking  through  the  apparently  uninter- 
rupted consistency  of  bodies.  We  would  further  remind 
our  readers  that  the  kindred  conception  of  vacant  spaces 
emptied  of  matter,  which  was  probably  due  to  the  Pytha- 
goreans, had  already  been  known  to  Parmenides,  and  had 
formed  an  objective  of  his  energetic  attack.j 

These  two  agents,  invisible  moving  particles  and 
invisible  vacant  interstices,  comprised,  as  it  were,  the  raw 
material  for  the  atomistic  theory.  It  derived  its  form 
and  shape  from  two  ideal  factors.  We  refer  to  the  twin 
postulates  of  matter  which  we  have  already  discussed  to 
satiety,  and  which  we  may  claim  with  equal  right  as  the 
contribution  of  the  philosophers  of  Ionia.  Parmenides  was 
indeed  the  first  to  have  moulded  them  to  a  definite 
shape,   but   the   postulate   of  quantitative   constancy  was 

*  V>k.  I.  Ch.  I.  §  5.  t  Bk.  II.  Ch.  TV.  §  2. 

X  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  4,  and  cp.  §  5  below. 


EMPIRICAL    BASIS   OF  ATOMISM.  325 

the  key  to  the  whole  doctrine  of  primary  matter,  and  had 
originated  and  controlled  all  the  attempts  at  moulding  this 
doctrine  from  Thales  downwards.    With  regard  to  the  second 
postulate   of  qualitative  constancy,  we  have  already  dis- 
covered its  earliest  traces  in  Anaximenes ;  next,  we  saw  it 
developed  to  its  full  extent  in  Anaxagoras,  who  agreed  with 
the  Eleatics  in  no  other  point,  and  was  diametrically  opposed 
to  them  on  every  important  question,  whereas  Empedocles, 
who  was  demonstrably  a  disciple  of  the  school  of  Parme- 
nides,  laid  far  less  stress  on  that  postulate,  and  employed 
it  in  a  far  less  perfect  form.     When  we  reach  Leucippus 
we  find  that  he  clung  with  the  utmost  rigour  to  both  these 
postulates,  the  fulfilment  of  which  was  correctly  conceived 
as   the    indispensable    condition    of  the  steady  process  of 
nature   in   the   kingdom  of  corporeal  existence.     Still,  the 
rigour  displayed  by  Leucippus  did  not  mislead  him  either 
to  deny  nature  like  Parmenides  or  to  do  violence  to  her 
like   Anaxagoras.      We    may   reserve  our   opinion    as   to 
whether  or  not  he  was  aware  that  even  these  most  important 
postulates  are  at  bottom  nothing  but  questions  addressed 
to  nature  by  the  inquirer ;  nor  are  we  certain  that  he  sup- 
ported the  new  doctrine  merely  by  sound  conclusions  drawn 
from  empiric  facts.     For  we  cannot  neglect  the  temptation 
that  besets  many  great  discoverers.     They  are  not  content 
to  build  their  most  splendid  achievements  on  the  only  trust- 
worthy foundation  of  knowledge — experience  ;  they  prefer 
to  try  to  increase  their  certainty  by  resting  them  on  pre- 
tended necessities  of  thought.    Something  of  this  kind  might 
not  unreasonably  be  expected  from  the  pupil  of  Zeno  the 
metaphysician.     But  be  that  as  it  may — and  we  shall  revert 
to  it  later — the  one  decisive  factor  is  still  lacking  to  com- 
plete our  account  of  the  origin  of  the  atomic  theory.     We 
have   marked   the  conceptions  of  the  indestructibility  and 
unchangeablencss  of  matter  contained  in  its  twin  postulates, 
and  we  have  now  to  add  a  physical  insight  of  the  utmost 
value.     We  refer  to  the  recognition  of  the  impenetrability 
of  matter.     Experiments  of  the  kind,  one  of  which  wc  saw 
attempted  by  Anaxagoras,*  must  have  led  to  the  promotion 
*   Bk.  II.  Ch.  IV.  §  \  Jin. 


326  GREEK    THINKERS. 

of  this  quality  as  a  universal  attribute  of  substances.  The 
resistance  offered  to  every  attempt  at  compression  by  the 
air  contained  in  the  inflated  bag  selected  as  an  example 
by  Anaxagoras  must  have  led  to  the  perception  of  a  pal- 
pable and  rapidly  increasing  resistance.  And  with  that 
perception  a  fresh  difficulty  arose.  It  was  a  difficulty  which 
could  not  have  arisen  as  long  as  the  homogeneous  character 
of  the  material  world,  so  far  from  being  known,  was  obscured 
and  disguised  by  the  difference  of  the  states  of  aggregation. 
When  the  air  is  at  rest,  or  nearly  so,  no  obstacle  worth 
mentioning,  certainly  no  impassable  obstacle,  opposes  the 
movement  of  our  body.  But  then  came  experiments  of 
the  kind  tried  by  Anaxagoras,  to  which  may  be  added  the 
test  applied  by  Empedocles  to  confirm  the  pressure  of  the 
atmosphere  and  the  theories  of  matter  resting  doubtless 
on  kindred  observations,  especially  that  of  Anaximenes, 
which  deprived  the  difference  in  the  states  of  aggregation 
of  its  fundamental  significance.  With  these  facts  and 
doctrines  that  difficulty  could  no  longer  be  overlooked. 
It  was  no  longer  feasible  to  doubt  that  one  was  dealing 
with  impenetrable  matter,  whether  air,  or  water,  or  solid 
bodies,  and  the  question  necessarily  arose — How  was 
movement  within  that  region  possible  at  all  1  Other 
questions  suggested  themselves  as  the  corollaries  of  this 
problem.  Whence  came,  it  was  asked,  the  remarkable  differ- 
ences of  resistance  offered  to  one  and  the  same  movement 
in  different  media  .''  How  did  it  happen  that  a  flying  arrow 
met  with  no  noticeable  opposition  from  the  air,  but  was 
impassably  resisted  by  a  rock  .''  At  this  point  the  theory 
of  a  vacuum,  which,  as  we  have  seen,  was  not  wholly  new, 
afforded  a  welcome  outlet  to  the  bewilderment  of  thought. 
The  material  world,  it  was  argued,  was  not  continuous  ; 
rather  it  consisted  of  separate  impenetrable  nuclei  divided 
from  one  another  by  empty  penetrable  interstices.  Inas- 
much and  in  so  far  as  one  impenetrable  nucleus  could  give 
way  to  another,  therefore,  and  to  that  extent,  motion 
was  possible.  And  such  motion  would  take  place  with 
ease  or  difficulty  or  not  at  all,  according  as  the  constitution 
and  the  distances  of  such  nuclei  rendered  it  easy,  difficult. 


SERVICES   OF   THE   ATOMIC  DOCTRINE.      327 

or  impossible  for  one  to  give  way  to  another.  Those  atoms 
or  units  of  matter  were  actually  inseparable,  though  not 
ideally  indivisible  or  unextended  in  space.  Their  minute- 
ness caused  them  to  escape  observation,  and  it  was  their 
indestructibility,  unchangeableness,  and  impenetrability 
which  really  invested  matter  with  those  qualities.  The 
complex  was  the  aggregate  of  its  simple  parts,  and  the 
shape  and  size  of  the  primary  particles  gave  the  key  to 
the  attributes  of  the  composite  body. 

3.  Words  fail  us  to  express  the  value  and  importance 
of  this  great  doctrine.  We  must  begin  by  speaking  of  the 
services  which  the  theory  was  calculated  to  render,  and 
which  it  actually  has  rendered,  to  the  cause  of  modern 
science.  It  will  then  be  time  enough  to  consider  the  im- 
perfections of  its  oldest  form  and  of  its  earliest  employ- 
ment. It  explains  spatial  movement  of  every  kind.  It 
makes  it  compatible  with  the  impenetrability  of  matter, 
and  it  unravels  the  processes  of  motion  in  every  sort  and 
degree,  whether  they  are  enacted  in  universal  space  or  in 
a  drop  of  water.  Its  clear  light  is  shed  on  the  differences 
of  the  three  states  of  aggregation.  The  same  groups  of 
atoms  or  molecules  of  a  fluid  are  contracted  under  the 
influence  of  cold,  and  coalesce  in  a  solid  body  ;  they  are 
segregated  under  the  influence  of  heat  and  volatilized  in 
a  gas.  Nothing  but  the  external  and  superficial  appear- 
ance contradicts  any  more  the  indestructibility  of  matter. 
The  growth  of  an  apparently  new  material  structure  is 
revealed  as  the  union  of  a  hitherto  distributed  complexus 
of  atoms,  its  decay  as  the  separation  of  a  complexus 
hitherto  united.  We  advance  from  the  mechanics  of  masses 
— the  relations  of  movement  and  equilibrium  in  com- 
prehensive groups  of  atoms — to  the  mechanics  of  atoms 
and  of  the  groups  immediately  superior  to  them,  the 
minutest  atomic  combinations,  or  the  molecules  with  which 
chemistry  deals.  The  proportions  of  weight  and  volume 
in  such  a  combination  of  several  substances  would  often 
be  numerous,  but  would  never  show  arbitrary  variations, 
and  this  fact  of  their  fixed  recurrence  is  explained  by 
modern    science    by  the   theory  of  ecjuivalents,  or    atomic 


328  GREEK   THINKERS. 

weights,  which  meant  that  a  fixed  number  of  atoms  of  one 
kind  entered  in  combination  with  a  fixed  number  of  atoms 
of  another  kind  or  of  several  other  kinds.     The  quahties  of 
sense    in    a   body,  and    in  part  its  physical  attributes,  are 
necessarily  dependent  on  the  relations  of  position  and  the 
conditions   of  movement   in  its  minutest  parts.     Nothing, 
then,  would  be  more  natural  than  a  change  of  colour,  for 
instance,  in  the  same  collection  of  similar  atoms  according 
to  the  disposition  of  the  atomic  groups  or  molecules.    Thus 
by  allotropy  common  phosphorus  is  yellow  and  amorphous 
phosphorus  is  red.     The  same  observation  holds  good  of 
chemical  combinations.    By  the  law  of  isomery  the  qualities 
vary  according  to  the  structure  of  the  compound  though 
the  same  atoms  be  mixed  in  precisely  the  same  proportions. 
"  According  to  the  manner  in  which  the  atoms  are  disposed," 
we  may  add,  in  the   words  of  Fechner,  "  the  object   will 
assume  different  qualities  in  different  directions  (differences 
of  expansion,  foliation,  hardness,  and  so  forth)."     But  the 
atomic  theory  applied  to  chemistry  is  not  as  simple  as  it 
sounds.     The  relation  of  the  qualities  of  a  compound  to 
those  of  its  constituent  parts  can  never  be  quite  perspicuous. 
Deep-going  changes  take  place  at  the  entry  of  substances 
into   a  chemical   combination.     They   are   condensed,  for 
instance,  or   their  latent  heat    is   released,  or   some   other 
result  is  effected  with  all  the  consequences  it  entails.     We 
have  no  right,  therefore,  to  expect  that  the  qualities  of  the 
compound  will  be  the  sum  of  those  of  its  ingredients,  and 
neither  more  nor  less.     John  Stuart  Mill,  for  example,  was 
not    the    only  great    thinker  who    has    been    startled    into 
questioning  the  perfectibility  of  chemistry  by  such  facts  as 
that  the  qualities  of  water  are  not  merely  the  total  of  those 
of  oxygen  and  hydrogen,  nor  the  colour  of  blue  sulphate 
of  copper  a  mere  mixture  of  the  colours  of  sulphuric  acid 
and  copper.     These  facts,  however,  as  we  have  just  shown 
reason   to  believe,  by  no   means  contradict  the  view  that 
the   atoms  in    a   compound   remain  precisely  the  same  as 
they  were  before  they  entered  it,  and  as  they  will  be  after 
they  emerge  from  it.    Even  now  direct  proof  can  be  offered 
of  the    continuous   unchanged  condition  of  some  of  their 


DEDUCTION  IX   CHEMISTRY.  329 

qualities,  and  recent  science  has  begun  to  smooth  the  way 
for  the  accumulation  of  fresh  evidence  of  that  kind,  as  well 
as  for  the  more  comprehensive  illustration  of  the  causal 
dependence  of  the  qualities  of  a  compound   on   those  of 
their    constituents.     Thus   the    specific    heat  of   elements 
persists    in    their   combinations,    the   power  of   carbon    to 
refract  light  is  maintained  in  carbon  compounds,  and  other 
proofs  of  the  connection  between  the  qualities  of  a  compound 
and  those  of  its  parts  are  constantly  coming  to  light.     We 
should  add  that   it  is  occasionally  possible  to  foretell  the 
qualities  of  a  compound  not  yet  experimentally  produced. 
Without  multiplying  this  evidence,  enough  will  have  been 
said  to  show  that  chemistry,  resting  as  it  does  wholly  on 
the  atomic  theory,  approximates  more  and  more  closely  to 
that   stage  of  perfection   in  which  deduction  or    inference 
replaces  the  crude  method  of  empiricism.     Quite  recently, 
indeed,  it  has   succeeded   in  deriving  physical  qualities  of 
elements,  such  as  their  extensibility,  fusibility,  and  volatility, 
from  the  weight  and  volume  of  the  respective  atoms  ;  and 
even    in   rivalling   the   astounding  feats  of  astronomy,  by 
foretelling  the  existence  and   the  nature  of  elements,  and 
in  subsequently  confirming  its  predictions    by  actual  dis- 
covery.    Here,  then,  we  pause.     We  have  seen  enough  of 
the  record  of  the  atomic   theory  to    appreciate    Cournot's 
dictum  to  the  full  measure  of  its  truth  :  "  None  of  the  ideas 
that  antiquity  has  bequeathed  to  us  has  had  a  greater  or 
even  a  similar  success."     Nor  is  the  modern  atomic  theory 
a  mere  sister-doctrine  to  that  of  Leucippus  and  Democritus  : 
it   is    rather   its   direct    descendant,  flesh   of   its   flesh   and 
bone    of  its    bone.  •  It    is    difficult    to  determine   how   far 
Galilei,  the    founder  of  modern   natural  science,*  who  was 
certainly  acquainted  with  the  teachings  of  Democritus,  was 
influenced  by  them,  and  how  far  he  thought  out  anew  for 
himself  .some    of  their    fundamental    principles.     Ikit    we 
know  that  Rene  Descartcsf  was  obliged  to  meet  the  reproach 
that  that  portion  of  his  theory  was  nothing  but  a  "  patch- 
work of  tags  from  Democritus,"  and  Pierre  Gassendi,t  the 
French  dean   and   ])rebendary,  who  finally  introduced  the 
*  Born  1564.  t  Born  1596.  \  Born  1592. 


330  GREEK    THINKERS. 

atomic  theory  in  modern  physics,  was  directly  inspired  by 
the  study  of  the  teachings,  writings,  and  the  life  of 
Epicurus,  who  walked  in  the  footsteps  of  Leucippus  and 
Democritus,  and  contributed  very  materially  to  their 
better  understanding  and  appreciation. 

The  atomic  theory  looks  back  on  a  long  and  eventful 
history,  which  has  lately  been  narrated  in  a  manner  as 
pleasant  as  it  is  thoughtful,  though,  unfortunately,  the 
narrative  does  not  take  account  of  the  rudiments  of  the 
doctrine.  It  is  not  our  intention  to  discuss  its  changes 
and  transformations,  nor  yet  the  objections  that  have  been 
levelled  at  it  by  the  so-called  dynamic  philosophers.  We 
shall  confine  our  attention  to  a  few  of  the  chief  differences 
between  ancient  and  modern  atomism.  Contemporary 
physics  no  longer  admit  the  conception  of  a  vacuum. 
Ether  has  taken  its  place,  and  the  assumption  has  shown 
itself  of  far  greater  service  in  the  explanation  of  natural 
processes.  But  in  the  decisive  point  before  us  both 
conceptions  are  found  completely  to  coincide.  Ether,  no 
less  than  the  vacuum,  is  absolutely  penetrable,  since  abso- 
lute elasticity  is  ascribed  to  it ;  the  impenetrable  substances 
are  imbedded  in  it,  as  it  were  ;  it  surrounds  them  and 
encloses  them.  A  second  distinction  with  still  more 
important  consequences  is  the  following.  The  chemistry 
of  our  day  does  its  work  with  seventy-odd  elements,  and 
modern  chemists  believe — especially  since  the  discovery  of 
"  the  natural  series  "  of  the  elements — that  their  number 
will  be  considerably  diminished  in  the  future,  and  that  the 
whole  collection  will  in  all  probability  ultimately  be  reduced 
to  a  single  primary  element.  Leucippus,  on  the  contrary, 
had  felt  himself  compelled  to  assume  an  infinite  variety 
of  the  atoms  in  respect  to  their  size  and  shape,  though 
in  no  other  relation.  His  hypothesis  accordingly  proved 
more  serviceable  than  it  appeared  in  the  conception  of 
its  author,  and  this  is  not  his  least  title  to  renown.  The 
number  of  qualitative  differences  due  merely  to  variations 
in  the  number  and  disposition  of  the  atoms  combined 
on  each  occasion  in  one  structure  was  proved  incalculably 
larger  than  was  dreamed  of  by  Leucippus  and  Democritus. 


COUNTLESS   DIFFERENCES   OF  SHAPE.        33  I 

Alcohol  and  sugar,  for  example,  are  so  distinct  in  appear- 
ance and  effect  that  no  one  could  ever  have  conjectured  that 
both  are  compounded  out  of  the  same  three  kinds  of  atoms 
merely  in  different  proportions.  Muscarine,  again,  is  a  deadly- 
poison,  and  neurine  is  a  substance  to  be  found  in  all  animal 
and  vegetable  cells,  and  yet  the  one  differs  from  the  other 
merely  by  a  single  atom's  weight  of  oxygen.  These  and 
similar  facts  were  as  foreign  to  them  as  that  the  inexhausti- 
ble multiplicity  of  organic  structures  is  for  the  most  part  to 
be  referred  to  four  different  kinds  of  atoms  in  their  various 
proportions  and  dispositions.  The  question  leaps  to  the 
lips,  why,  in  that  case,  those  atomists  were  not  satisfied 
with  a  more  modest  hypothesis  ;  and  it  is  reasonable  to 
reply  that  their  exaggeration  was  a  kind  of  reaction  against 
the  popular  and  unscientific  conception  of  the  material 
world,  and,  further,  in  the  instance  of  Democritus,  against 
the  doctrine  of  matter  associated  with  the  name  of 
Anaxagoras.  "  There  is  no  need,"  cried  the  authors  of  the 
new  theory  to  their  opponents,  "there  is  no  need  of  your 
assumption  of  innumerable  qualitative  differences  ;  not  a 
single  such  difference  need  really  be  assumed.  Differ- 
ences in  the  size  and  shape  of  the  primary  substance 
are  in  themselves  completely  adequate  to  explain  the 
inexhaustible  multitude  of  the  differences  of  phenomena." 
With  this  declaration  an  immense  step  was  taken  towards 
simplifying  fundamental  hypotheses.  At  a  single  blow 
the  lavishness  of  nature  had  been  checked  on  the  qualita- 
tive side.  Was  she  also  to  be  impelled  to  thrift  on  the 
quantitative  side  }  At  first  there  was  no  necessity  for  this 
measure.  The  whole  object  of  the  founders  of  the  doctrine 
was  to  adapt  the  new  hypothesis  to  the  most  ambitious 
and  even  to  exaggerated  demands,  and  it  was  surely  not 
too  much  to  expect  that  nature  would  display  in  this  im- 
portant instance  the  same  wealth  and  lavishness  which  she 
showed  in  other  respects.  Measure  and  limit  would  only 
be  imposed  by  the  gradual  growth  of  positive  knowledge. 
Moreover,  though  the  theory  of  Democritus  recognized 
isolated  instances  of  double  atoms,  yet  in  general  it 
excluded  the  conception  of  groups  of  atoms  or  molecules. 


332  GREEK    THINKERS. 

The  atom  itself  had  to  fulfil  the  task  that  is  performed  in 
modern  science  by  the  molecule,  and  its  richer  variety  was 
an  obvious  condition.  We  do  not  dispute  that  this  part 
of  the  hypothetical  structure  may  have  been  equipped  with 
too  generous  a  hand,  but  we  would  urge  that  at  least  the 
wealth  was  not  squandered,  but  was  applied  in  the  most 
lucrative  manner  possible.  AH  physical  differences  of 
simple  substances  were  referred  without  any  exception  to 
those  differences  of  size  and  shape.  Democritus  felt  him- 
self on  sure  enough  ground  to  dispense  with  any  other 
assumption  of  distinctions.  It  is  true  that  we  are  in- 
sufficiently informed  on  some  points  important  to  this 
inquiry.  But  we  are  acquainted  with  his  explanation  of 
specific  gravity,  which  he  derived  entirely  from  the  greater 
or  less  density  of  the  material  structure.  If  of  two  bodies 
with  the  same  volume  one  were  lighter  than  the  other,  the 
one  would  contain  a  larger  vacuum  than  the  other.  Here, 
however,  a  difficulty  arose.  According  to  the  premise  the 
hardness  of  the  body  would  likewise  have  to  increase  and 
decrease  with  its  density,  and  with  its  density  alone.  And 
some  explanation  was  required  for  instances  where  the  hard- 
ness and  the  specific  gravity  did  not  go  together.  Thus 
iron,  for  instance,  is  harder  than  lead,  but  lead  is  heavier 
than  iron.  A  further  ingenious  expedient  here  came  to 
the  philosopher's  aid.  He  accounted  for  this  contradiction 
by  fixing  the  responsibility  on  a  difference  in  the  dis- 
tribution of  the  vacuum.  A  piece  of  lead,  Democritus 
contended,  contained  more  body  and  less  vacuum  than  a 
piece  of  iron  of  the  same  size,  otherwise  its  weight  could  not 
be  greater.  But  the  distribution  of  the  vacuum  in  the  lead 
must,  he  argued,  be  more  equable,  the  solid  matter  must  be 
interrupted  by  more  numerous  though  by  smaller  empty 
interstices,  otherwise  its  hardness  could  not  be  less. 

4.  We  have  no  exact  information  as  to  which  bodies  in 
the  theory  of  Democritus  were  simple  and  which  were 
complex.  The  rays  of  enlightenment  break  through  at 
two  points  only  of  what  we  may  term  his  physiology  of 
the  senses.  In  the  light  of  those  rays,  we  may  assert  with 
confidence  at  least  one  negative  conclusion.     The  infinite 


multiplicity  which  he  recognized  in  the  sizes  and  shapes  of 
atoms  did  not  arise  from  his  incompetence  to  perceive  or 
to  conjecture  a  complex  in  an  apparently  simple  body. 
Thus  his  eminently  noteworthy  theory  of  colours,  which, 
parenthetically  remarked,  is  in  dire  need  of  fresh  expert 
treatment,  started  from  the  assumption  of  four  primary 
colours — white,  black,  red,  and  green.  These,  with  the 
exception  of  green,  which  had  taken  the  place  of  yellow, 
were  likewise  the  primary  colours  in  the  scheme  of  Em- 
pedocles.  All  other  colours  were  designated  as  mixed, 
and  we  see  that  all  the  numerous  bodies  which  were  not 
equipped  with  one  of  the  four  primary  colours  must  have 
been  of  a  composite  nature.  That  is  to  say,  they  must 
have  included  other  than  merely  homogeneous  elementary 
particles.  Passing  to  Democritus'  attempt  to  explain 
the  difference  in  the  impressions  of  taste,  we  find  that  it 
was  based  in  principle  on  the  differences  in  the  shape,  and 
secondarily  on  those  of  the  size  of  the  atoms  contained  in 
the  respective  substances.  Pungency  he  derived  from 
sharp  or  pointed  particles  of  matter,  sweetness  from  the 
rounded  form  of  moderately  big  particular  atoms,  and  the 
same  doctrine  was  applied  to  tartness,  saltness,  bitterness, 
and  all  other  impressions  of  the  palate.  First,  let  us 
advert  to  these  explanatory  attempts,  based  on  mere 
vague  resemblances  between  impressions  of  taste  and 
touch.  That  they  were  fallacious  is  beyond  dispute,  and 
their  clumsiness  may  excite  our  surprise.  But  our  readers 
may  be  inclined  to  temper  their  justice  with  mercy  if 
they  recollect  that  practically  the  same  theories  of  the 
differences  of  taste  as  depending  on  the  differences  in  the 
shapes  of  particular  atoms  were  current  in  the  eighteenth 
century,  and  enjoyed  a  well-nigh  unchallenged  authority, 
as  we  learn  from  Alexander  von  Humboldt's  "  Ivssay 
on  the  stimulated  nervous  and  muscular  fibre."  The 
point  on  which  our  interest  is  concentrated,  however, 
is  rather  the  relation  of  those  theories  to  the  doctrine  of 
simple  and  complex  substances.  The  statements  aljout 
the  atomic  forms  underlying  the  several  tastes  give  rise  at 
first  to  the  impression  that  each  of  the  countless  "juices  " 


334  GREEK   THINKERS. 

or  materials  of  taste  is  composed  of  homogeneous  atoms 
possessing  the  size  and  shape  required  for  the  purpose. 
But  this,  we  plainly  perceive,  was  not  the  opinion  of 
Democritus.  His  own  view  of  the  mixed  colours  cries 
against  it.  The  homogeneity  of  the  atoms  was  admissible 
in  the  case  of  white  salt,  but  it  was  not  admissible  in 
that  of  yellow-gold  honey  or  of  brownish-yellow  human 
bile.  It  is  true  that  he  must  have  referred  the  sweetness 
of  the  one  and  the  bitterness  of  the  other  to  the  presence 
of  the  atomic  forms  by  which  those  impressions  were 
produced.  But  yellow  and  brown  were  mixed  colours 
in  his  theory,  and  he  must  accordingly  have  inferred  that 
honey  and  bile  alike  contained  atoms  of  other  forms  as 
well.  The  true  meaning  of  those  statements  should  there- 
fore be  expressed  as  follows :  In  all  substances  of  mixed 
colours  at  least  the  kind  of  atoms  which  lends  them  their 
specific  taste  is  merely  the  predominant  and  preponderant 
kind,  and  without  wasting  more  words  on  this  subject, 
Theophrastus,  who  is  our  best  authority  for  Democritus' 
theory  of  sensation,  relates  that  this  doctrine  was  expressly 
taught  by  him. 

We  pass  from  individual  atoms  to  atomic  groups. 
These  were  regarded  by  Democritus  as  combinations  or 
concatenations,  in  the  literal  sense  of  that  word.  Their 
contact  in  his  eyes  was  the  result  of  their  being  linked  or 
"hooked"  together,  and  the  infinite  variety  of  shapes 
which  the  atoms  possessed  in  the  theory  of  Democritus 
helped  him  to  account  for  such  processes.  He  drew  in- 
structive distinctions  between  the  gregarious  capacities  of 
his  atoms.  Some  were  unsociable  particles,  affording  no 
handle  for  combination  except  by  enclosing  them  in  a 
shell  ;  others  were  supplied  with  hooks  and  eyes,  with 
balls  and  sockets,  with  involuted  edges,  with  mortice  and 
dovetail,  or  with  some  other  of  the  countless  means  of 
rendering  them  attachable,  some  at  one  and  others  at  two 
points.  This  last  distinction,  with  certain  similar  differences, 
was  presumably  intended  to  account  for  the  greater  or  less 
degree  of  mobility  in  the  particular  atoms,  their  faster  or 
looser  combination,  and  for  the  corresponding   nature   of 


COSMOGONY  OF   THE   AT O MISTS.  335 

the  complex  body  in  each  instance.  The  last  echo  of 
this  mode  of  explaining  chemical  combinations  was  heard 
in  Descartes  and  Huyghens,  and  since  then  its  voice  has 
grown  unfamiliar.  But  at  the  same  time  we  should 
remember  that  the  conceptions  of  chemical  affinity  which 
have  partially  replaced  this  crude  mechanical  view  are 
equally  inadequate  to  their  task  ;  that  they  enjoy  their 
existence  as  mere  conveniences  of  expression,  as  plausible 
fictions,  or,  to  quote  a  modern  chemical  philosopher,  as 
phrases  "  in  the  room  of  a  clear  conception."  We  may 
further  remark  that  contemporary  science  is  more  and 
more  under  the  sway  of  the  doctrine  of  contact— albeit 
through  the  medium  of  ether — instead  of  that  of  attraction, 
to  explain  the  union  of  particles,  a  revolution  of  thought 
which  may  be  traced  to  Huyghens'  important  "  Discourse 
on  the  Cause  of  Gravity  "  (1690).  But,  despite  these  con- 
siderations, we  might  still  apostrophize  Democritus  in 
Pascal's  dictum  anent  the  Cartesian  theory  of  matter : 
"  Roughly  we  may  say  that  this  happens  through  shape 
and  motion,  but  to  presume  these  and  to  set  the  machine 
at  work  .  .  .  that  is  uncertain,  useless,  and  idle  trouble." 

Let  us  now  see  how  out  of  the  infinitesimally  small  arose 
the  infinitely  great.  The  atoms  fit  for  combination  flit 
about  in  empty  space  and  occasionally  meet  one  another. 
They  are  woven  to  larger  wholes  till  they  gradually  form  a 
shell  which  encloses  and  imprisons  the  hosts  of  free,  errant 
atoms,  and  thus,  severing  themselves  from  the  infinite 
vacuum,  they  finally  become  a  separate  world  or  cosmos,  of 
which  there  are  infinitely  many.  These  are  constructed 
where  all  the  conditions  favourable  to  their  growth  are 
found,  and  they  are  destroyed  and  revert  to  their  constituent 
parts  as  soon  as  the  conditions  cease  to  be  favourable.  But 
for  a  cosmos  such  as  that  familiar  to  our  experience  tlie 
presence  of  enormous  atomic  groups  and  their  combination 
on  the  largest  scale  do  not  suffice  ;  the  discrimination  of 
the  substances  on  an  equal  scale  is  also  reciuisitc.  No 
mere  conglomeration  of  vagabond  atoms,  but  a  collection 
of  groups  of  matter  few  in  number  but  wholly  or  nearly 
homogeneous,  is  the  spectacle  that  meets  our  eyes     he:iven 


S3^  GREEK    THINKERS. 

and  earth,  and  the  wide  expanse  of  ocean.    The  old  riddle 
was  set  to  the  atomists,  and  they  found  a  new,  though  not 
a  completely  new,  answer.    Empedocles  had  constructed  the 
universe  by  the  attraction  of  like  to  like,  and  his  solution 
was  now  revived,  though  in  a  somewhat  altered  form.     For 
Democritus  also   recognized   a  regulative  principle   in   the 
universe  in  the  endeavour  of  like  substances  to  consort  with 
like.     But  he  did  not  dismiss  it  as  inaccessible  to-..explana- 
tion  or  as  an  ultimate  fact  requiring  none.     He  sought  to 
understand  it  and  to  discover  its  cause  ;    and,  seeing  that 
the  problem  was  material,  he  looked  for  a  physical  or  a 
mechanical  cause.  He  saw  homogeneous  substances  collected 
together  in  groups  ;  one  particle  of  earth  lay  next  to  another, 
one  drop  of  water  found  a  sister-drop,  and  these  observations 
ranged  themselves  in  his  mind  with  the  fact  that  the  atoms 
or  atomic  groups  which  determined  the  qualities  of  earth, 
water,  and  so  forth,  had  once  been  united  and  agglomerated 
in  immense  masses.     Thus  he   found   himself  confronted 
with    a   problem   which   he   was   at   pains   to  solve.     His 
solution    may    be    expressed    in    axiomatic    language    as 
follows :  Particles  of  equal  size  and   shape  have  an  equal 
power  of  reaction,    and   particles   of   different   sizes    and 
shapes    have    a    relatively    different    power    of    reaction. 
Reflecting   on   the   great   processes  which   have   lent   our 
world    its    present    appearance,    Democritus    recalled    the 
effects   produced    by   the   winnowing-fan    or   by   the   tide 
breaking    on    the    seashore.      The    heterogeneous    grains 
swung  to   and  fro  by  the  farmer  with  the  winnowing-fan 
in  his  hand  would  be  sifted  and  separated  owing,  in  the 
opinion  of  Democritus,  to  the  consequent  current  of  air. 
"  Lentils  lie  next  to  lentils,  barley  to  barley,  and  wheat  to 
wheat."     And  a  similar  effect  was  to  be  remarked  on  the 
seashore,  where  "the  movement  of  the  waves  flung  long 
stones  next  to  long   stones,  and   round   pebbles   next   to 
round  pebbles." 

The  vortex  of  atoms  played  in  cosmic  processes  the 
part  of  the  winnowing-fan  and  the  tide.  The  sidewise 
contact  of  moving  chains  of  atoms  in  any  part  of  space 
produced  a  rotatory  or  whirling  movement  which  affected 


SOURCE   OF   THEIR   DOCTRINE.  33/ 

the  two  chains  in  the  first  instance,  and  next  extended 
itself  to  the  neighbouring  tissues  of  atoms  till  it  finally 
sifted  and  severed  all  the  agglomerated  masses.  The 
axiom  mentioned  above  governed  this  process  of  separa- 
tion in  so  far  that  atoms  of  similar  size  and  shape  reacted 
in  a  similar  manner  on  the  impulse  they  received,  the 
resistance  increasing  and  diminishing  according  to  the  size 
of  the  primary  particles.  Nor  was  it  only  the  attraction 
of  like  substances  —  watery  particles  situated  next  to 
watery,  particles  of  air  next  to  particles  of  air,  and  so 
forth — that  was  traced  to  this  cause.  It  accounted  further 
for  the  order  of  the  masses  thus  agglomerated,  inasmuch 
as  their  resistance  to  the  motory  impulse  would  be  weaker 
or  stronger  according  as  the  particles  were  smaller  in  size 
and  more  mobile  in  shape,  or  larger  in  size  and  less  mobile 
in  .shape.  Therefore  the  mass  of  earth,  composed  of  the 
atoms  which  were  larger  and  less  mobile,  formed  the 
central  point,  and  the  ether,  consisting  of  the  smaller  and 
rounded  particles  of  fire,  formed  the  exterior  shell  of  the 
cosmos  that  was  thus  composed.  It  is  about  ten  years 
since  this  cosmogonic  doctrine  was  correctly  interpreted 
by  two  independent  investigators,  each  of  whom  succeeded 
in  clearing  away  the  accumulated  parasites  of  centuries  of 
error,  and  in  restoring  the  thoughts  of  Lcucippus  and 
Democritus  in  their  pristine  purity.  But  the  admirable 
services  of  these  two  writers  were  defective  at  one  point. 
Neither  of  them  noted  that  the  use  of  the  vortex  as  the 
vehicle  of  cosmic  order  was  by  no  means  an  innovation  on 
the  part  of  the  atomists.  We  have  met  with  similar 
assumptions  in  Anaxagoras  as  well  as  in  Empedocles,  and 
we  can  name  the  common  source  from  which  all  these 
speculations  were  derived  with  at  least  a  high  degree  of 
probability.  We  refer  to  Anaximander  of  Miletus,  the 
patriarch  of  cosmogonic  speculation.  His  were  the  as- 
sumptions based  on  experiments  with  the  slingstone  which 
we  mentioned  in  the  first  chapter  of  this  work,  and  the 
Anaximandrian  parentage  of  this  theory  is  vouched  for  in 
a  passage  from  Aristotle.  But  important  as  these  signs 
of  agreement  are.  the  differences  that  meet  us  in  the 
VOL.   I.  Z 


OJ 


8  GREEK    THINKERS. 


employment  of  this  aid  to  cosmogony  are  no  less  remarkable. 
Anaxagoras  traced  the  first  impulse  of  the  rotatory  move- 
ment to  an  immaterial  or  at  least  a  half-material  principle. 
The  masses  which  had  hitherto  been  huddled  together  in 
wild  confusion  were  extricated  by  that  principle,  relieved  of 
their  internal  friction,  and  enabled  to  follow  the  bias  of  their 
specific  gravity  and  to  sort  themselves  in  due  order.  We 
cannot  determine  at  what  point  Empedocles  discovered  the 
first  impulse  in  his  process  of  motion,  which  likewise  pro- 
duced a  vortex  and  caused  the  separation  of  the  material 
mass  conglomerated  hitherto  in  the  one  "  divine  ball." 
Certain  it  is,  however,  that  his  mechanical  process  served 
the  purpose  of  Discord — one  of  his  two  powers  not  inherent 
in  matter.  But  no  trace  of  this  dependence  was  preserved  by 
the  atomists.  The  cosmogonic  process  was  the  means  to 
no  preconceived  end  whatsoever  ;  it  did  not  spring  from  the 
intention  of  a  Nous  forming  the  universe,  nor  was  it  the 
emanation  of  any  other  power  regulating  and  controlling 
phenomena.  It  was  due  wholly  and  solely  to  natural  forces, 
in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  which  were  immanent  in 
matter  itself.  It  was  an  assumption  purely  due  to  the  need 
of  scientific  explanation,  and  its  only  object  was  to  supply 
without  reservation  or  prejudice  a  satisfactory  answer  to 
the  question,  how  could  it  happen  that  here  and  there  in 
the  infinite  expanse  of  empty  space,  and  at  this  and  that 
point  in  the  extent  of  infinite  time,  there  should  have 
occurred  that  severance  and  disposition  of  material  masses 
of  which  the  world  that  surrounds  us  is  obviously  no 
isolated  instance }  We  must  pause  here  to  illustrate  the 
misunderstandings  that  accrued  at  an  early  date  to  a 
portion  of  the  atomists'  answer. 

In  our  opening  remarks  in  this  context  we  spoke 
of  atoms  flitting  about  in  the  vacuum.  We  related 
how,  in  the  theories  of  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  hosts 
of  such  atoms  would  meet  together,  how  those  suited 
for  combination  would  then  be  combined,  and  how  those 
not  so  suited  would  partly  at  least  be  kept  together  by  a 
shell  of  atomic  tissues,  and  thus  preserved  from  total 
dispersion.       Finally,     we    have     considered    the    mobile 


THE    COSMOGONIC    VORTEX.  339 

complexes  of  atoms  whose  sidevvise  impact  on  one 
another  produced  the  cosmogonic  vortex.  Two  questions 
here  arise,  one  of  detail  and  the  other  of  principle.  The 
first  relates  to  the  vortex  and  to  the  effects  ascribed  to  it. 
For  these  effects  were  the  precise  contrary  of  what  they 
should  have  been  by  the  laws  of  physics.  The  centrifugal 
force  which  is  released  by  a  rotatory  movement  is  doubtless 
admirably  adapted  to  sift  an  agglomerated  mass  of  matter. 
But,  as  every  centrifugal  machine  would  show,  it  is  the 
heaviest  substances  which  are  hurled  to  the  greatest 
distance.  Anaximander,  whose  theory  we  have  just  men- 
tioned, would  appear  to  have  been  aware  of  this,  and  the 
essentially  deductive  bias  of  his  genius  drew  direct  inferences 
from  his  observations  of  everyday  centrifugal  movements 
to  the  effects  of  similar  forces  which  he  conceived  to  be  at 
work  in  the  formation  of  the  world.  The  successors  of 
Anaximander  would  appear  to  have  been  alarmed  at  the 
audacity  of  thought  which  connected  the  immensely  great 
with  the  minutely  small.  So  in  adopting  the  hypothesis  of 
rotation  they  looked  for  more  exact  parallels  in  their  earthly 
experience  to  the  cosmogonic  vortex.  Such  a  parallel  they 
discovered  in  the  region  of  meteorological  phenomena,  and 
they  were  promptly  misled  by  their  discovery.  An  eddy 
of  comparative  strength,  like  that  not  unfrequently  produced 
in  Greece  by  the  summer  north  winds,  would  carry  away 
lighter  objects,  though  it  was  too  weak  to  lift  heavier  ones 
as  well.  Further,  the  motion  of  every  whirlwind  takes 
an  inward  direction  as  it  approaches  the  ground  in  con- 
sequence of  the  friction  there  ensuing,  so  that  a  heap  of 
matter  is  actually  deposited  at  its  centre  which  remains 
unmoved.  Thus  the  erroneous  belief  might  arise  that  such 
consequences  were  inherent  to  a  vortex-like  movement  as 
such,  and  that  they  must  have  accompanied  the  motion  of 
the  supposed  cosmic  vortex  as  well. 

Of  far  greater  importance  is  the  question  of  the  causes 
of  all  these  movements  and  inhibitions  of  movements.  It 
was  a  question  which  perplexed  thought  at  an  early  date, 
and  gave  rise  to  the  most  notable  protests  with  which  the 
atomic  theory  has  had  to  contend.     To  a  certain,  indeed 


340  GREEK    THINKERS. 

to  a  very  great,  extent,  a  direct,  satisfactory,  and  luminous 
answer  was  available.  The  factors  borrowed  from  experi- 
ence and  conceived  as  efficacious  in  those  cosmical  pro- 
cesses were  impact,  pressure,  counter-shock,  and  resistance, 
increasing  with  the  mass.  It  may  be  fatal  to  the  atomic 
theory  in  its  customary  form  that  it  implies  the  resilience 
of  atom  from  atom,  and  thus  assumes  the  elasticity  of  abso- 
lutely hard  bodies.  But  this  has  nothing  to  do  with  the 
question  of  principle  here  concerned.  Those  factors  further 
proved  themselves  more  amply  adapted  to  explain  the  earlier 
phases  of  the  cosmic  process  than  a  superficial  view  might 
lead  us  to  suppose.  /For  even  the  atoms  flitting  in  the 
vacuum  might  have  met  other  atoms  in  the  infinite  extent 
of  time  past,  and  thus  have  been  set  in  motion  by  the  blows 
they  received.  This  expedient,  however,  could  by  no  means 
be  regarded  as  final.  It  supposed  that  A  was  struck  by 
B,  B  by  C,  C  by  D,  and  so  forth,  and  that  these  shocks 
set  them  in  motion.  But  when  philosophy  began  to  trace 
the  process  backwards,  it  was  inevitably  brought  to  the 
question  of  the  starting-point  of  the  series,  however 
numerous  its  members  may  have  been.  The  reply  offered 
by  Democritus  to  these  interrogatories  displeased  many 
succeeding  thinkers,  and  we  may  now  inquire  into  the 
justice  of  their  displeasure.  His  explanation  was  that 
such  atomic  motion  was  original,  eternal,  and  without 
beginning,  and  that  it  would  be  a  wild-goose  chase  to 
seek  for  the  beginning  or  the  cause  of  a  process  that 
never  began.  Hereupon  he  was  told  that  his  explana- 
tion was  at  variance  with  the  principle  of  universal 
causation  so  emphatically  proclaimed  by  him  and  his 
master,  that  he  was  exalting  causelessness  and  accident 
to  a  controlling  rank  in  the  universe,  that  he  was  placing 
chance  at  the  head  of  the  universal  process,  and  so  forth, 
and  so  forth,  /'  The  recriminations  have  been  sustained 
from  the  time  of  Aristotle  till  our  own  day,  and  in  order 
to  decide  fairly  between  the  combatants  we  must  first  get 
a  clear  idea  of  what  we  mean  by  "cause."  If  we  take  its 
German  equivalent  Ursache,  we  shall  see  at  a  glance  how 
its   ambiguity   may   have   arisen    and   have   produced  this 


AMBIGUITY   OF   THE    WORD    '' CAUSE P        34 1 

ancient  conflict.*  For  UrsacJie  may  mean  a  Sac/ie — a  thing 
in  the  widest  sense  of  the  term,  a  being  or  substance  of 
any  kind — which  was  present  before  a  phenomenon  and 
called  it  into  existence.  Democritus  was  evidently  fully 
entitled  to  decline  to  search  for  such  a  cause  of  an 
aboriginal  process.  For  if  he  regarded  the  atoms  as 
existing  from  all  eternity,  he  was  certainly  not  obliged  by 
his  belief  in  causation  to  send  something  yet  more  aboriginal 
in  advance  of  that  aboriginal  thing.  But  the  word 
Ursache  has  a  second  meaning  which  is  the  predominant 
meaning  in  scientific  usage  to-day.  Briefly  stated,  we 
understand  by  the  word  "  cause  "  the  totality  of  conditions 
by  which  an  event  is  produced.  It  is  irrelevant  whether  the 
conditions  are  partially  at  least  exterior  to  the  object  which 
forms  the  scene  of  the  event,  or  whether  they  are  exclusively 
forces  or  qualities  immanent  in  it  and  determining  the  kind 
of  its  action.  In  this  second  meaning  of  the  word  the 
question  of  the  cause  even  of  an  aboriginal  event  is  admis- 
sible to  research.  In  the  present  instance  such  a  question 
would  lead  us  to  a  definition  of  the  quality  of  the  atoms 
which  enables  them  to  move  previously  to  any  impulse 
from  without  and  independently  of  it.  And  if  the  answer 
were  to  satisfy  more  rigid  demands,  it  would  have  to 
include  the  regulative  law  as  well  as  the  quality  ;  in  other 
words,  the  strength  and  direction  of  that  aboriginal  motion. 
Democritus  fulfilled  the  first  but  not  the  second  part  of 
this  demand.  He  declared  the  original  or  natural  condition 
of  atoms  to  be  a  state  of  motion,  but  he  stopped  short  at 
the  problem  of  the  direction  and  strength  with  which 
they  moved.  Nor  indeed  could  he  have  done  otherwise, 
inasmuch  as  no  material  of  observation  was  placed  at  his 
disposal.  In  his  world  as  in  ours  matter  had  long  since 
emerged  from  its  aboriginal  period  in  which  the  desired 
law  of  motion  could  alone  have  been  studied.  The 
philosophy  of  Democritus,  moreover,  was  especially  hostile 
to  such  study,  in  consequence  of  the  vortex  from  which 
he  dated  the  beginning  of  the  world  as  it  exists.  And, 
these  considerations  apart,  where  was  he  to  look  for  a 
*   (Jr  cp.  the  derivation  of  l"r.  rliflsc  and  Ital.  iosa  from  l.il.  caKui 


342  GREEK   THINKERS. 

particle   of  matter  which   in   the   course  of  the  ages  had 
never  yet  collided  with  other  particles,  nor  suffered  any 
impact  or  pressure  ?    Nay,  even  if  he  had  found  it,  and  if  it 
had  proved  amenable  to  observation,  and  fit  in  itself  to  yield 
up  that  law  of  aboriginal  motion,  how,  we  may  ask,  could 
Democritus  have  prosecuted   the   inquiry,   ignorant   as  he 
was  of  its  past  history  in  mechanics  or  of  its  lack  of  such 
a  past  ?    Thus  his  rejection  of  that  demand  as  superfluous 
and  vain  was  not  merely  pardonable  but  inevitable.      He 
was  content  with  declaring  that  the  atoms  had  been   in 
motion  since  all  eternity,  and  no  one  who  is  conversant  or 
duly  familiarized  with  the  foundation  and  the  course  of  his 
philosophy  will  doubt   the   legitimacy  of  that  declaration. 
Leucippus  and  his  disciple  were  concerned  with  the  present 
phenomena  of  the  universe,  and  their  especial  attention  was 
given  to  the  preliminary  condition  of  those  phenomena,  and 
to  attempts   to   explain   the   composition   and   origin  of  a 
cosmos  such   as   ours  and   the   separation  and  disposition 
of  its    constituent    material  parts.     As    genuine    scientific 
thinkers,  working  from  the  known  to  the  unknown,  they 
were  at  pains  to  construct  the  minimum  basis  of  assumption 
on  which,  together  with  the  qualities  of  matter  discovered 
by  empirical  methods,  they  might   construct  the  universe 
and    devise    a    reasonable    theory   of   the    activity   of    its 
component  parts.     It  was  one  of  these   assumptions   that 
the  primary  particles  of  matter  had  originally  existed  in  a 
state  of  motion  and  not  in  a  state  of  rest.     By  this  means 
they  could    meet  one   another,  by  this  means  they  could 
combine  with  one  another,  by  this  means  the  aggregates 
of  atoms  which  had  met  in  a  specific  way  could  and  must 
produce  a  vortex,  and  so  forth.     But  there  was  no  cause 
whatever  to  make  statements  or  to  form  conjectures  as  to 
the  character  of  that  motion.     It  was  not  necessary  to  the 
nature  of  the  problem,  nor  could  it  be  justified  on  any  other 
ground.     This  refusal  to  meet  his  opponents  on  their  own 
terms,  in  the  midst  of  so  many  instances  of  temerity,  does 
credit  to  the  scientific  moderation  and  self-restraint  of  the 
philosophers  of  Abdera. 

At    this   point,  however,  our   progress  is  obstructed  by 


PREJUDICES    OF  METAPHYSICS.  343 

various  pretended  metaphysical  difficulties  which  are  really 
the  rooted   prejudices  of  metaphysics.     Their  roots  strike 
so  deep  that  we  should  be  tempted  to  call  them  ineradicable 
in  the  face  of  the  fact  that  a  famous  natural  philosopher  of 
recent  times  has  once  more  spoken  of  the  problem  of  a  bond 
between  matter  and  motion  as  one  of  the  insoluble  "  riddles 
of  the  universe."     And   that,  we   may   add,  is   the   least 
pretentious   disguise   in   which  our  apparent   difficulty  has 
clothed    itself.     For   all   ultimate   facts   of  creation  are  at 
bottom  riddles  of  the  universe  in  as  far  as  they  are  in- 
accessible  to   what   we   call   explanation.     The  existence 
of  matter  itself  is  as  great  a  riddle  as  its  motion.     But 
when  we  come  to  the  idea  that  the  "  conception  "  of  matter 
contains  something  that   makes   it  particularly  difficult — 
not    to    say,    with    most    metaphysicians,    impossible — to 
associate  it  with  primordial  movement,  then,  we  venture  to 
assert,  we  are  presented  with  one  of  the  most  remarkable 
of  the  illusions  to  which  the  credulous  mind   of  man  has 
ever  fallen  prone.     In  this,  as  in  other  similar  difficulties  or 
impossibilities  of  thought,  we  see  nothing  but  an  effect  of 
habit.     The   unique  feature   to  be   remarked  in  this  habit 
of  thought   which   usurps   the   dignity   of  a   principle   of 
thought  is   the   fact  that   we  can  point   to  its  source  with 
absolute  definiteness  in  the  extremely  narrow  limits  of  our 
faculties  of  perception.     So  far  as  we  are  acquainted  with 
the   universe,  matter   in  motion,  and  not  matter  at  rest,  is 
the  practically  unexceptional  rule.     The  whole  treasury  of 
science  does  not  contain  a  single  genuine  instance  of  more 
than    relative    rest.     The   luminary  which    we  inhabit  and 
those    revealed    to    our    sight    are    involved    in    ceaseless 
velocity.     They  are  as  exempt  from  rest  as  the  atoms  and 
molecules    of  which    every  bodily    substance  is  composed. 
But  by  an  accident  of  vision  we  arc  not  directly  awam 
of  the    circumgyration    by  which  we  and  our  planet  and 
all  that  it  contains  are  borne  through  space.     And  another 
accident  of  vision  withdraws  from  our   limited  senses  the 
unceasing  circulation  of  the  particles  of  matter.     Thus,  by 
this  combination   of  accidents,  our  eyes  arc  almcxst  exclu- 
sively  accustomed    to  substances  of  a  moderate  size,  ami 


344  GREEK   THINKERS. 

such  a  substance,  it  is  to  be  noted,  when  we  cease  to 
regard  it  as  a  part  of  its  whole  or  as  the  whole  of  its 
parts,  will  frequently  produce  the  impression  of  a  permanent 
peace,  though  there  is  merely  a  temporary  truce  to  its  motory 
forces.  Here  and  here  alone,  we  presume,  is  the  root  of 
that  remarkable  opinion  which  grew  to  dogmatic  strength, 
and  which  presumed  that  a  state  of  rest  was  more  natural 
to  matter  than  a  state  of  motion,  or  even  that  it  was 
absurd  to  consider  motion  as  a  part  of  the  primordial 
endowment  of  matter. 

From  the  dawn  of  modern  times  a  little  band  of 
chosen  spirits  set  themselves  to  oppose  this  dogma.  Giordano 
Bruno  and  Francis  Bacon  were  united  in  this  purpose,  and 
Leibniz  and  Spinoza  repudiated  the  authority  of  Descartes 
as  emphatically  as  eminent  philosophers  of  the  nineteenth 
century.  One  of  these,  John  Tyndall,  coined  a  beautiful 
phrase  :  "  If  Matter  starts  as  a  '  beggar,'  it  is  because  the 
Jacobs  of  theology  have  deprived  it  of  its  birthright."  We 
would  correct  but  a  single  word  in  this  dictum.  Instead  of 
theology  we  should  blame  metaphysics,  which  has  so  fre- 
quently fanned  and  flattered  the  prejudices  of  mankind. 
For  it  better  accords  with  the  omnipotence  and  the  omni- 
science ascribed  by  the  theologians  to  the  Deity  that  He 
should  have  given  movement  to  matter  at  the  outset  than 
that  He  should  have  added  it  as  a  kind  of  afterthought. 
Democritus,  at  any  rate,  was  not  troubled  by  such  questions. 
He  flourished  before  the  times  when  matter  was  regarded  as 
"  an  inert  mass  "  or  "  a  quiescent  load  "  obedient  to  exterior 
impulses  alone.  The  future  still  guarded  "that  invention 
of  the  human  intellect,"  to  speak  in  the  words  of  Bacon, 
"  spoliated  and  passive  matter."  It  was  unknown  to  the 
hylozoists,  and  it  seems  proper  to  point  out  that  the 
Atomists  too,  though  they  were  disposed  to  regard  the 
universe  as  a  mechanism,  were  yet  fortunately  preserved 
from  this  fallacious  generalization  founded  on  the  mechanics 
of  earthly  masses.  In  this  instance  as  in  others  they  were 
the  heirs  of  their  great  forefathers,  the  physiologists  of  Ionia. 
5.  It  is  more  common,  we  admit,  to  dwell  on  the  debt 
of  gratitude  which  the   authors   of  Atomism  owed  to  the 


ATOMISM  AND    ELEA.  345 

Eleatic  philosophers.  Our  readers  will  already  be  in  a 
position  to  decide  with  approximate  accuracy  for  them- 
selves the  extent  and  the  nature  of  the  obligation,  but  we 
need  not  hesitate  to  quote  the  view  expressed  on  the 
subject  by  Theophrastus,  the  most  important  of  ancient 
authorities. 

"  Leucippus,"  he  wrote,  "  who  was  a  native  of  Elea  or  Miletus, 
was  familiar  with  the  doctrine  of  Parmenides,  but  did  not  follow  in 
his  footsteps  nor  in  those  of  Xenophanes,  but,  methinks,  pursued 
the  opposite  road.  For  while  they  represented  the  universe  as  uni- 
form, moveless,  changeless,  and  limited,  and  turned  aside  from  the 
bare  question  of  non-being  \i.e.  the  vacuum],  Leucippus  presumes  an 
infinite  number  of  primary  bodies,  the  atoms,  involved  in  ceaseless 
movement.  He  declares  their  forms  to  be  infinite  in  number, 
because  " — not  to  mention  other  reasons — "  he  perceived  in  the 
objects  incessant  birth  and  incessant  change.  Further,  he  did 
not  regard  being  as  more  real  than  non-being,  and  he  recognizes 
in  both  equally  the  cause  of  every  process." 

Without  reading  into  the  introductory  words  the  state- 
ment, which  we  believe  to  be  untrue,  that  Leucippus  was  a 
pupil  of  Parmenides,  we  may  remark  that  he  would  have 
proved  as  unsatisfactory  a  disciple  to  that  sage  as  Voltaire 
must  have  been  to  his  Jesuit  fathers.  But  the  passage  is 
more  instructive  in  displaying  the  error  of  those  who 
account  the  second  postulate  of  matter  as  the  creation  of 
Parmenides.  The  fundamental  contradictions  so  justly  and 
emphatically  mentioned  by  Theophrastus  do  not  prevent 
them  from  assuming  the  far-reaching  dependence  of  the 
atomistic  on  the  Eleatic  doctrine.  We  should  exhaust 
the  patience  of  our  readers  if  we  were  to  recapitulate  the 
grounds  on  which  wc  have  recognized  both  postulates  of 
matter  as  the  product  and  property  of  the  Ionian  school. 
Still,  we  are  anxious  to  give  Parmenides  the  full  credit  of 
having  formulated  them  strictly — a  credit,  indeed,  which 
is  not  inconsiderably  diminished  by  the  vain  attempt  to 
support  them  by  a  priori  arguments.  It  was  not  entirely 
to  no  purpose  that  the  Eleatic  metaphysicians  exercised 
their  intellect  in  great  efforts  of  abstraction.  The  accept- 
ance of  the  second  postulate  of  the  qualitative  constancy 


346  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  matter  left  the  alternative  between  two  ways  of  thought, 
and  two  only,  which  may  briefly  be  designated  as  the  road 
of  Anaxagoras  and  the  road  of  Leucippus.  The  one  theory 
of  matter  presumed  as  many  primary  substances  as  there 
were  actual  combinations  of  the  qualities  of  sense,  and  the 
other  presumed  one  primary  matter,  possessing  all  the 
common  fundamental  qualities  of  bodies,  but  excluding 
the  diverging  qualities  of  sense.  The  ground  preliminary 
to  this  last-named  view  was  prepared  by  Parmenides,  who 
likewise  drew  a  line  of  demarcation  between  qualities 
characteristic  of  bodily  substances  as  such  and  those  that 
we  may  call  the  accidents  of  bodily  substance.  The  "  Being  " 
of  Parmenides,  by  which  space  was  filled,  possessed  bare 
eternity  and  unchangeableness.  Motion  was  inconceivable 
to  him,  and  was  therefore  deemed  impossible,  and  the  me- 
chanical qualities  of  substance,  by  which  all  motion  is  caused 
and  controlled,  were  therefore  also  meaningless  in  his  eyes. 
This  doctrine  was  silent  about  impact  and  pressure,  and 
all  the  modifications  of  those  processes.  Thus  the  hard 
and  fast  line  which  he  drew  between  true  Being  and  mere 
delusive  appearance  did  not  coincide  with  the  distinc- 
tion drawn  by  Leucippus  between  the  objective  and  merely 
subjective  reality,  between  the  primary  and  secondary 
attributes  of  things.  On  the  contrary,  it  relegated  motion, 
the  centre  and  pivot  of  the  atomistic  theory  of  the 
universe,  to  the  realm  of  appearance.  Still,  it  was  some- 
thing that  he  drew  such  a  distinction  at  all,  that  he 
recognized  a  difference  between  the  essential  attributes  of 
his  Being  and  other  non-essential  attributes,  and  that  he 
kept  them  firmly  apart  ;  and,  inasmuch  as  he  did  this,  he 
may  be  said  to  have  promoted  that  theory  of  the  universe 
almost  in  his  own  despite.  The  paths  of  intellectual  pro- 
gress cross  one  another  so  wonderfully  that  the  very  man 
who  denied  all  movement,  all  change,  and  all  process,  and 
who  therefore  robbed  natural  research  of  its  contents, 
advanced  the  cause  of  natural  research.  Unconsciously 
and  unwillingly  he  served  the  cause  of  the  science  which 
recognized  change  and  process,  which  reduced  them  to 
mechanical  motion  and  which  was  solely  concerned  with 


OLDER    UNKNOWN  INFLUENCES.  347 

such  problems.  Full  justice  has  thus  been  done  to  the 
contribution  of  the  Eleatics  in  the  advancement  of  positive 
knowledge.  And  more  than  this,  perhaps.  For  who 
shall  say  if  Leucippus,  face  to  face  with  that  alternative, 
would  not  have  espoused  the  right  side,  and  have  entered 
the  lists  against  Anaxagoras  even  without  being  prompted 
by  Parmenides  ?  It  is  idle  to  discuss  what  might  have 
been,  but  it  would  be  wrong  to  conclude  from  the  points 
of  contact  of  both  doctrines  that  the  one  was  dependent 
on  the  other.  Contradiction  is  contact,  and  to  that  extent 
it  is  fair  to  say  that  these  two  theories  were  related.  The 
Eleatics  argued  as  follows  : — 

"  Without  a  vacuum  there  is  no  motion. 
There  is  no  vacuum. 
.'.  There  is  no  motion." 

The  Atomists  argued  on  the  contrary : — 

"  ^Vithout  a  vacuum  there  is  no  motion. 
There  is  motion. 
.*.  There  is  a  vacuum." 

The  conclusions  are  plainly  in  striking  contrast,  but  it  is 
legitimate  to  ask  if  the  Atomist  did  not  owe  the  Eleatic 
the  major  premise  common  to  both,  and  thus  the  corner- 
stone, as  it  were,  of  at  least  that  portion  of  his  philosophy. 
An  affirmative  answer  has  frequently  been  returned  to  this 
question,  but  we  venture  to  regard  it  as  wholly  erroneous. 
The  Eleatics  could  not  have  been  the  authors  of  this 
common  premise.  Melissus  had  already  treated  of  empty 
space  in  a  manner  which  does  not  lead  us  to  believe  that 
he  set  up  the  hypc^thcsis  in  order  to  knock  it  down,  and 
the  tone  in  which  Parmenides  himself  refuted  the  assump- 
tion of  the  vacuum  or  non-being  makes  it  impossible  to 
doubt  that  he  found  the  doctrine  ready-made  as  an  aid  to 
the  explanation  of  nature.  No,  it  was  not  Parmenides 
who  influenced  Leucippus  in  this  instance.  That  influence 
must  be  traced  to  older  anonymous  thinkers  anterior  to 
both — probably,  as  we  have  twice  had  occasion  to  remark, 
to  Pythagoreans.*  We  venture  to  go  one  step  further. 
•   Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  4  ;  and  cp.  .^  2  above. 


34^  GREEK   THINKERS. 

These  nameless  philosophers  did  not  only  invent  the 
vacuum,  but  they  bequeathed  to  their  successors  an 
analogue  to  the  atoms.  Parmenides  speaks  of  something 
in  which  nothing  but  vacuum  can  be  seen,  but  which, 
according  to  the  assumptions  of  teachers  whom  he  bitterly 
opposed,  occupied  in  part  a  continuous  space  and  in  part 
was  "  regularly  distributed  throughout  space."  In  other 
words,  he  was  acquainted  with  the  doctrine  which  assumed 
not  merely  continuous  space  empty  of  all  matter,  but 
also  empty  interstices  traversing  the  whole  material 
world.  The  islets  of  matter,  as  we  may  call  them, 
surrounded  by  these  interstices  as  though  by  a  network 
of  canals,  approximate  very  closely  in  their  object  and 
intention  to  the  atoms  of  Leucippus.  Moreover,  the  con- 
ception of  a  material  mass  regularly  and  unexceptionally 
interrupted  can  hardly  have  been  due  to  any  other  demand 
than  the  need  of  explaining  a  universal  fact.  Finally,  the 
fact  requiring  explanation  can  hardly  have  been  other  than 
the  fact  of  motion.  These  conclusions  we  believe  to  be 
true — not  the  less  true,  indeed,  because  they  have  never 
been  drawn  before.  Here  once  more  the  attentive  reader 
will  remark  the  organic  growth  of  ideas  and  that  progres- 
sive development  which  enhances  the  value  of  scientific 
achievements  without  seriously  detracting  from  the  merits 
of  their  authors. 

6.  We  are  now  at  liberty  to  ask  what  was  the  chief 
contribution  made  by  Leucippus  to  science,  and  what  part 
of  his  doctrine  bore  most  conspicuously  the  impress  of  his 
original  genius.  He  did  not  introduce  the  conception  of 
the  vacuum,  nor  did  he  do  more  than  to  refine  and  to  raise 
to  the  dignity  of  a  self-contained  system  the  atomic  theory 
which  existed  before  him,  though  in  a  rough,  rudimentary, 
and  imperfect  shape.  Whether  the  labours  of  Parmenides 
were  indispensable  or  not,  Parmenides  at  least  preceded 
Leucippus,  and  prepared  the  way  for  the  distinction  of 
essential  and  unessential  attributes,  or,  to  speak  with  John 
Locke,  of  the  primary  and  secondary  qualities  of  objects. 
But  Leucippus  entered  a  virgin  field  in  his  attempt  to 
relate  the  world  of  substances  with  the  world  of  phenomena,. 


UNDYING    MERIT   OF  LEUCIPPUS.  349 

instead  of  following  the  Eleatics  in  rejecting  the  world  of 
phenomena  as  a  phantasm  and  delusion  to  be  expelled 
from  the  fane  of  science.  He  tried  to  build  a  bridge 
between  two  worlds  which  had  once  been  combined 
without  distinction,  and  which,  when  they  had  afterwards 
been  distinguished,  were  utterly  sundered  from  each  other  ; 
and  this  grand  undertaking,  this  endeavour  to  prove 
that  the  totality  of  the  sensible  qualities  is,  mathematically 
speaking,  a  function  of  their  corporeal  qualities,  of  their 
size,  shape,  position,  situation,  nearness,  and  distance,  and 
thus  to  approach  the  universe  as  a  whole,  not  as  a  sceptic, 
not  as  an  iconoclast,  but  in  the  humble  spirit  of  explana- 
tion, this  is  the  crown  and  apex  of  the  intellectual  work  of 
Leucippus.  The  most  original  part  of  his  achievement 
was  also  the  most  permanent :  yea,  we  may  call  it  indestruc- 
tible. Atomism  may  be  superseded  ;  the  theory  of  cognition 
in  its  progress  has  already  weakened  the  distinction  between 
primary  and  secondary  qualities  ;  but  the  attempt  to  corre- 
late all  qualitative  differences  with  differences  of  size,  and 
shape,  and  situation,  and  movement,  is  destined  to  survive 
all  changes  of  opinion  and  thought.  The  exact  know- 
ledge of  nature  rests  entirely  on  this  attempt  to  reduce 
qualities  to  quantities,  or,  to  speak  more  precisely,  to 
establish  fixed  relations  between  the  two.  Mathematical 
physics  were  contained  there  as  in  a  germ,  and  modern 
research  took  its  starting-point  thence.  Galilei,  Descartes, 
Huyghens, — they  all  followed  the  same  path.  "I  do  not 
believe,"  declared  Galilei,  "that  anything  else  is  required 
than  magnitudes,  shapes,  quantities,  and  slow  movements 
or  swift,  to  produce  in  us  tastes,  smells,  sounds."  Huyghens 
presupposed  bodies  formed  of  homogeneous  matter,  "  in 
which  no  qualities  were  distinguished,  but  only  different 
magnitudes,  shapes,  and  movements;"  and  this  was  like- 
wise the  point  of  view  which  was  maintained  before  him  by 
Descartes.  These  philosophers  led  the  van  of  the  natural 
science  of  to-day,  and  they  were  united,  as  they  expressly 
testify,  in  their  acquaintance  with  the  doctrine  whicli  they 
describe  as  Democritean,  though  its  true  author  was  Leucip- 
pus.    And  here  we  shall  do  well  to  remark  that  the  links 


350  GREEK   THINKERS. 

thus  discerned  in  the  chain  of  natural  phenomena,  and  the 
dominion  over  nature  which  such  discernment  implies,  are 
wholly  independent  of  all  systems  of  philosophy,  whether 
that  which  we  ourselves  prefer,  or  that  which  our  descendants 
may  adopt.  The  electric  lamp  loses  none  of  its  brightness 
for  the  agnostic,  dark  as  he  may  deem  the  innermost 
essence  of  nature.  The  laws  of  optics  are  the  same  for 
the  champion  of  the  mechanics  of  the  universe  as  for 
him  who  derives  the  essence  of  the  world's  process  from 
something  other  than  material  substance  and  its  move- 
ments. Whatever  answer  the  future  may  return  to  these 
fundamental  problems  of  human  knowledge,  there  is 
one  fact  that  can  never  be  shaken  :  Corporeal  movements, 
as  an  element  that  can  be  quantitatively  determined,  are 
the  "  Open,  Sesame,"  that  has  unlocked  countless  secrets 
in  the  system  of  nature,  and  that  will  unlock  countless 
more.  Here,  if  anywhere,  it  is  legitimate  to  speak  of 
finality.  And  that  Leucippus  by  his  theory  put  this  key 
in  the  hand  of  mankind- — this  is  his  highest  title  to  honour, 
this  his  imperishable  renown. 

It  detracts  very  little  from  his  merit  that  his  own 
attempts  to  prove  the  great  doctrine  with  which  he  endowed 
the  world  frequently  bore  the  stamp  of  that  a  priori  reason- 
ing which  he  probably  learnt  from  Zeno.  Thus  he  was 
not  content  to  found  his  supreme  hypothesis  on  those  facts 
of  experience  which  really  underlie  it,  on  a  reference  to 
the  facts  of  spatial  movement,  rarefaction  and  condensa- 
tion, compression  and  other  changes  of  volume,  which  thus 
were  accounted  for,  and  of  which  the  growth  of  organic  beings 
is  an  important  special  instance.  He  was  also  at  pains  to 
equip  his  arguments  with  the  compelling  force  which  should 
deprive  an  adversary  of  every  outlet,  and  refute  him  by  an 
ad  ahsurdmn,  or  reduce  him  to  a  self-contradiction  when 
he  contradicted  the  new  theory.  One  of  his  ratiocinations, 
for  example,  is  said  to  have  begun  as  follows  :  "  The  full 
cannot  take  in  anything."  Certainly  not,  we  may  add, 
since  fulness  in  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  and  incapacity 
to  take  in  anything,  are  but  synonymous  expressions. 
When  we  have  poured  water  into  a  vessel  till   it   cannot 


HIS    A    PRIORI   DEMONSTRATIONS.  35 1 

hold  any  more  we  call  it  full,  and  if  we  are  told  that  a 
vessel  is  full  we  invariably  understand  that  it  cannot  take 
in  anything  more.  We  shall  presently  see  if  Leucippus 
employed  this  tautology  merely  as  an  innocent  device  to 
expound  the  conception  of  fulness.  He  is  said  to  have 
continued  as  follows  : — 

"  But  if  the  full  were  to  take  in  anything  more,  and  if  in  that 
way  two  bodies  [of  equal  magnitude]  were  to  find  room  where 
hitherto  there  was  only  room  for  one,  then  there  would  be  no  end 
to  the  number  of  bodies  which  could  be  located  in  the  same  place, 
and  the  smallest  could  contain  the  greatest." 

In  making  this  last  statement,  Leucippus  had  played 
his  trump  card.  It  concealed  an  ambiguity,  however,  in 
which  the  fate  of  the  whole  argument  was  involved.  No 
anti-atomist  was  really  committed  to  the  belief  that  the 
smallest  could  contain  the  greatest,  as  such,  in  the  sense  that 
a  nutshell  could  hold  an  elephant.  But  that  a  substance 
with  the  size  of  an  elephant  can  be  so  far  compressed  as 
to  enter  a  nutshell  or  eggshell,  though  actually  untrue,  is 
neither  an  absurd  nor  a  self-contradictory  proposition.  It 
would  only  become  so  if  the  incompressibility  of  matter 
had  already  been  granted  ;  if,  that  is  to  say,  the  thing  to 
be  proved  were  already  taken  as  proven.  But  the  opening 
words  of  the  argument  served  to  beg  that  question.  There 
the  conception  of  fulness,  which  was  first  employed  in  a 
purely  empirical  sense  compatible  with  either  theory,  was 
transferred  into  the  conception  of  impenetrability  or  in- 
compressibility by  the  pseudo-explanatory  phrase  about 
"taking  nothing  in."  The  second  meaning  replaced  the 
first,  and  it  was  only  when  this  transference  was  effected 
that  the  desired  conclusion  could  be  drawn  from  the 
premises.  Otherwise  the  process  of  inference  would  have 
been  invalid.  We  may  here  note  another  demonstration 
of  a  still  less  innocent  kind  which  belonged  to  the  same 
category.  From  Leucippus  downwards  the  atomists  were 
at  pains  to  prove  the  infinite  number  of  different  forms  of 
atoms.  "  There  is  no  reason  why  the  atoms  should  possess 
this  form  rather  than  that."  and  therefore,  it  was  argued, 


352  GREEK   THINKERS. 

they  represented  all  conceivable  forms.  To  a  certain  extent 
this  simply  expressed  the  expectation  that  the  exuberant 
wealth  of  forms  displayed  by  nature  in  other  respects 
would  be  repeated  in  the  present  instance,  and  so  far — as 
we  have  remarked  before — it  contained  an  inference  by 
analogy,  to  which  it  is  impossible  to  deny  some  small 
measure  of  justification  as  a  presumption  or  provisional 
opinion.  But  any  claim  advanced  by  the  argument  to  the 
force  of  dogmatic  truth  is  evidently  null  and  void.  It 
attempted  to  trespass  the  eternal  barriers  of  human  know- 
ledge by  prying  into  the  resources  of  nature,  and  by 
forming  a  judgment  on  their  limited  or  unlimited  range. 
Its  method  recalls  Anaximander's  sham  proof  that  the 
earth  is  at  rest,  as  well  ^as  the  kindred  attempts  at 
demonstration  which  we  have  mentioned  above  on  the  part 
of  metaphysical  mechanicians  to  found  the  law  of  inertia  on 
^? /rzc>n  considerations  instead  of  an  empirical  basis.*  But 
the  likeness  has  at  least  one  point  of  difference.  Those 
other  speculations  supplied  an  untenable  proof  to  a  veritable 
fact  of  nature,  but  in  the  present  instance  the  fact  which 
awaited  demonstration,  apart  from  its  erroneous  proof,  was 
itself  a  dubious  fact.  When  we  reach  the  following  direct 
attempt  to  prove  the  existence  of  a  vacuum,  we  are  pro- 
bably correct  in  ascribing  it  to  Democritus  with  his  marked 
bias  to  empiricism.  He  stated  it  in  this  form  :  A  vessel 
filled  with  ashes  will  take  in  as  much  water — by  which 
he  probably  meant  "  nearly  as  much  water  " — as  if  there 
were  no  ashes  there  ;  the  condition  that  renders  this 
possible  is  that  the  ashes  contain  a  very  large  amount  of 
vacuum.  We  need  hardly  point  out  to  our  readers  that 
the  interpretation  of  the  fact  was  erroneous.  Porous 
bodies,  such  as  ashes,  contain  great  quantities  of  air, 
and  these  are  expelled  by  the  water  poured  into  the 
ash-pail.  It  is  true  that  Democritus,  if  he  had  been 
informed  of  this,  might  have  retorted  by  the  question : 
Whither  can  the  air  escape,  when  it  makes  room  for  the 
water,  if  the  whole  space  be  already  occupied  by  impene- 
trable matter  ?  And,  in  this  modified  form,  the  argument 
*  Bk.  I.  Ch.  I.  §  3. 


VALUE    OF  ATOMIC  HYPOTHESIS.  353 

would  have  implied  neither  more  nor  less  than  any  other 
reference  to  a  progressive  movement  in  space  which 
demands  the  assumption  of  vacua  as  soon  as  the  impene- 
trability of  matter  is  already  taken  as  proved. 

7.  Such  were  some  of  the  mistakes  committed  by 
these  giants  of  thought,  and  neither  separately  nor  col- 
lectively are  they  calculated  to  detract  seriously  from  their 
renown.  Still,  we  are  bound  to  mention  them,  as  well  on 
other  grounds  as  because  they  help  to  show,  what  is  true 
beyond  a  doubt,  that  the  atomic  theory  has  never  properly 
been  proved  either  in  ancient  or  in  modern  times.  It  was, 
it  is,  and  it  remains,  not  a  theory  in  the  strict  sense  of 
the  word,  but  merely  an  hypothesis,  though  an  hypothesis, 
it  is  true,  of  unparalleled  vitality  and  endurance,  which 
has  yielded  a  splendid  harvest  to  physical  and  chemical 
research  down  to  our  own  day.  By  its  aid  old  facts  have 
ever  been  satisfactorily  explained  and  new  facts  have  been 
discovered,  so  that  it  must  fairly  be  conceded  a  large  degree 
of  objective  truth,  or,  more  precisely  expressed,  it  must 
follow  for  a  long  way  a  road  parallel  to  the  real  objective 
condition  of  things.  Still,  as  has  been  said,  it  is  an  hypo- 
thesis, and  its  assumption  of  facts  that  lie  far  beyond  the 
limits  of  human  perception  deprives  it  for  all  time  of 
direct  verification.  Now,  the  indirect  proof  of  an  hypothesis 
can  only  become  a  complete  proof  if  it  be  shown  not 
merely  that  it  provides  a  most  satisfactory  explanation  of 
the  phenomena,  but  that  no  other  possible  hypothesis  would 
do  equally  well  or  better.  In  the  present  instance,  where 
the  phenomena  concerned  are  the  most  secret  processes  of 
nature  and  those  furthest  removed  from  our  sense-perception, 
the  more  than  approximate  proof  of  this  kind  will  hardly 
ever,  nay,  will  certainly  never  be  attainable.  The  mo.st 
cautious  thinkers  of  to-day,  accordingly,  while  paying  every 
honour  to  the  atomic  hypothesis,  do  not  affect  to  regard  it 
as  more  than  a  conjecture  which  comes  sufficiently  close 
to  the  finality  of  truth  to  be  used  with  considerable  advan- 
tage and  success,  but  which  yet  should  never  be  employed 
without  the  silent  reservation  that  it  is  perhaps  not  an 
ultimate  truth,  nor  even  the  ultimate  truth  at  our  disposal. 
V(JL.  I.  2   A 


354  GREEK   THINKERS. 

And  when  we  change  our  point  of  view  and  look  at  the 
theory  of  cognition  instead  of  the  facts  of  nature,  we  find 
ourselves  impelled  to  another  and  a  deeper  reservation. 
The  student  of  that  theory  is  doubtful  whether  in  the  last 
resort  he  can  learn  anything  about  the  exterior  world,  or 
at  least  can  learn  anything  else,  except  what  is  taught 
him  by  the  existence  of  series  of  sensations  connected  by 
laws  of  uniformity.  The  difference  between  primary  and 
secondary  qualities,  which  plays  so  prominent  a  part  in  the 
foreground  of  cognition,  loses  its  fundamental  importance  in 
his  eyes.  His  mature  self-consciousness  obliges  him  to  refer 
back  to  sensations  not  merely  smells,  tastes,  colours,  and 
sounds,  but  also  all  the  essential  characteristics  of  material 
substance,  and  to  acknowledge  that  the  conception  of  matter 
itself  is  robbed  of  its  contents  when  the  perceiving  and  feeling 
subject  of  sensation  is  abstracted.  But  the  atomic  theory 
is  not  valueless  even  in  the  eyes  of  thinkers  who  take  the 
above  point  of  view.  They  recognize  in  it  "a  mathematical 
model  for  the  statement  of  facts,"  and  they  ascribe  to  it 
"  a  function  in  physics  similar  "  to  that  possessed  by  "  cer- 
tain auxiliary  mathematical  conceptions."  To  this,  as  we 
have  stated  before,  we  shall  have  occasion  to  return.  We 
have  merely  considered  it  in  this  place,  hastily  and  cursorily 
though  it  may  have  been,  in  order  to  add  the  remark  that 
the  authors  of  atomism  took  no  account  whatsoever  of  the 
dubiety  that  marked  a  later  phase  in  the  development  of 
speculation.  And  in  general  we  may  say  it  works  for  the 
salvation  of  science  that  its  pioneers  in  their  respective 
periods  are  not  distracted  from  the  direct  and  limited 
task  set  before  them  by  the  confusion  and  bewilderment  of 
higher  and  more  distant  views. 

Atomism  and  Materialism — the  question  now  arises, 
how  far  these  two  are  identical.  These  early  Atomists 
were  content  to  be  confined  to  the  bodily  world,  nor  was 
their  complacency  disturbed  by  the  ghost  of  a  scruple 
arising  from  the  theory  of  cognition  ;  and  the  name  of 
Idealism  having  been  given  to  the  reverse  of  this  naive 
philosophy,  Leucippus  and  Democritus  may  fairly  be  called 
materialists.     They  were  materialists,  too,  in  as  far  as  they 


WERE    THE   A  TO  MISTS   MATERIALISTS  ?      355 

did  not  assume  the  continued  existence  of  the  psyche  or 
breath-soul,  but  rather  outdid  Parmenides  and  Empedocles, 
in  whose  systems  the  conception  played  a  sorry  part 
wholly  irrelevant  to  the  explanation  of  actual  facts,  by 
rejecting  it  altogether  and  replacing  it  by  soul-atoms.  But 
they  were  not  materialists  if  by  that  term  we  mean  thinkers 
who  deny  or  dispute  the  existence  of  spiritual  substances, 
for  the  simple  reason  that  the  transference  of  the  conception 
of  substance  from  the  material  world,  its  original  home,  had 
not  yet  taken  place.  And,  in  common  with  the  rest  of  their 
predecessors  and  contemporaries  in  natural  philosophy,  with 
the  sole  exception  of  Anaxagoras,  they  were  materialists  in 
as  much  as  they  looked  for  the  only  causes  or  conditions 
of  the  states  and  qualities  of  consciousness  in  the  material 
world  alone.  Nor  did  they  differ  essentially  from  the  great 
majority  of  their  precursors  in  their  relation  to  the  divine. 
Like  these,  they  acknowledged  no  divine  creator  of  the  world, 
and  they  were  as  loth  as  Empedocles  to  admit  immortal 
individual  gods.  Democritus  derived  the  belief  in  such 
deities  and  their  might  from  the  terror  with  which  thunder 
and  lightning,  solar  and  lunar  eclipses,  and  similar  marvels 
had  impressed  the  imagination  of  primitive  man.  At  the 
same  time,  he  is  said  to  have  admitted  the  divinity  of  the 
stars,  doubtless  on  account  of  their  fiery  nature,  in  accord- 
ance, that  is  to  say,  with  his  doctrine  that  they  were 
composed  of  soul-atoms,  and  he  shared  the  belief  of 
Empedocles  in  supernatural  Beings  of  long  though  not  of 
unlimited  life.  On  the  whole,  he  was  inclined  to  regard 
the  course  of  the  universe  as  unaffected  by  the  gods,  and 
his  assumption  accordingly  lacked  a  true  scientific  pretext. 
But  he  was  still  unable  to  make  up  his  mind  to  dismiss  to 
the  limbo  of  fiction  all  that  had  been  told  of  the  gods  and 
their  influence  on  mankind.  The  combination  and  con- 
catenation of  his  innumerable  and  multiform  atoms  afforded 
a  teeming  material  for  such  constructions,  and  doubtless  he 
used  these  resources  to  account  for  the  origin  of  Beings  sur- 
passing all  human  standards  in  size  and  in  beauty.  They 
were  designed  to  move  in  aerial  space.  The  images  eman- 
ating from  them  were  to  enter  in  our  bodies  and  in  their 


356  GREEK   THINKERS. 

most  diverse  organs.  Thus  by  indirect  means  and  by  direct 
impressions  on  our  senses — by  appearing  to  us  in  dreams 
and  speaking  to  us — they  were  to  exercise  in  all  kinds  of 
ways  their  beneficial  and  malignant  influences. 

8.  The  reader  will  have  been  able  to  gather  some 
acquaintance  with  the  psychology  of  Democritus  and  his 
master,  and  especially  of  their  perceptive  theories,  from 
some  of  the  preceding  extracts.  That  portion  of  their 
teaching  was  not  particularly  fertile,  though  Epicurus  and 
his  disciples  did  not  hesitate  to  incorporate  it  in  their  system 
of  philosophy.  For  both  those  reasons,  therefore,  we  shall 
deal  with  it  here  as  briefly  as  possible,  leaving  its  further 
significance  to  be  discussed  in  the  history  of  Epicurism, 
which  possesses  the  additional  advantage  that  far  ampler 
evidence  is  there  at  our  disposal  than  the  destructive 
criticism  of  antagonists  such  as  that  which  Theophrastus 
levelled  at  isolated  points  in  the  Democritean  theory  of  cog- 
nition. The  vehicles  of  psychic  functions  in  the  system  of 
Democritus  were  the  most  mobile  of  the  atoms — a  fact  which 
was  partly  due  to  the  apparent  need  of  such  a  vehicle  for  the 
proverbial  swiftness  of  thought,*  and  partly  to  the  picture  of 
ceaseless  change  presented  by  the  process  of  life,  which 
was  also  regarded  as  a  product  of  the  soul  in  its  identity 
with  vital  force.  On  this  account  the  atoms  actually  em- 
ployed for  the  functions  of  the  soul  were  conceived  as  small, 
round,  and  smooth.  It  was  obvious  that  their  great  mobility 
would  keep  them  constantly  endeavouring  to  escape  from 
the  body,  and  respiration  was  accordingly  entrusted  with 
the  task  of  counteracting  such  attempts.  It  worked  in 
two  ways :  first,  by  holding  the  atoms  back  by  a  current  of 
air  ;  and  secondly,  by  continually  renewing  them.  Mean- 
while the  extinction  of  this  process  would  bring  about  their 
final  dissipation.  Another  consideration  suggests  itself  here. 
These  soul-atoms  being  derived  from  the  external  world, 
it  is  quite  comprehensible  that  Democritus,  following  in  the 
footsteps  of  Parmenides  and  Empedocles,  should  have  drawn 
no  sharp  line  of  demarcation  between  the  animate  and  the 
inanimate  creation,  but  should  have  distinguished  the  two 
*  Cp.  Homer,  "  Swift  as  a  wing  or  as  thought," 


ATOMIC  PSYCHOLOGY  AND    OPTICS.  357 

merely  by  a  difference  of  degree.  And  lastly,  we  may 
remark  his  identification  of  the  soul-atoms  with  the 
atoms  of  fire,  thus  again  reminding  us  of  Heraclitus — 
a  conclusion  to  which  he  was  led  as  much  by  the  vital 
heat  of  the  higher  organisms  as  by  the  ceaseless 
vibration  of  the  atoms  resembling  the  movement  of  a 
flame.  Our  philosopher  took  account  of  all  the  processes 
of  perception,  but  his  closest  attention  was  given  to  the 
visual  function.  The  wonderful  fact  that  distant  objects 
affect  our  organs  of  sight  was  held  by  Democritus  to  be 
inexplicable  without  the  assumption  of  an  intervening 
agent.  Even  to-day,  when  use  and  wont  have  blunted  the 
edge  of  the  wonder,  it  strikes  us  with  ever  fresh  surprise, 
and,  where  modern  physics  speaks  of  the  medium  of  ether, 
Democritus  believed  that  the  explanation  was  to  be  found 
in  air.  The  air  was  supposed  to  receive  impressions  from 
the  objects  of  sight  and  to  transfer  them  to  our  organs 
of  vision,  such  impressions  being  literally  impressed  like 
the  mark  of  the  signet  on  wax.  He  represented  the  objects 
themselves  as  incessantly  shedding  thin  husks  or  membranes, 
which  entered  the  eye  that  happened  to  be  in  their  immediate 
neighbourhood,  and  there  became  visible  as  the  picture  in 
the  pupil ;  when  the  eye  was  at  a  distance,  he  conceived 
this  effect  to  be  produced  by  the  intermediary  action  of 
the  air.  Air,  then,  was  indispensable  for  this  purpose,  but 
yet  it  was  not  regarded  as  a  wholly  favourable  agent  in 
visual  perception.  The  disturbing  influence  of  the  medium 
was  held  to  account  for  the  darkening  and  final  disappear- 
ance of  the  most  distant  objects  of  sight.  Except  for  such 
disturbance,  according  to  Democritus,  we  should  be  able 
to  perceive  an  ant  crawling  on  the  vault  of  heaven.  The 
reader  will  be  able  to  gather  even  from  this  hasty  sketch 
that  the  great  thinker  was  still  wholly  unacquainted  with 
even  the  elements  of  optics  ;  nor  will  it  escape  him  that 
Democritus  was  misled  in  this  instance  by  his  attempt, 
partially  successful  in  other  respects,  to  derive  every  effect 
of  one  object  on  another  from  direct  contact,  and  from  its 
immediate  mechanical  manifestations  in  pressure  and  im- 
pact.    It  must  further  be  acknowledged  that  this  feature  in 


T)SS  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  fundamental  doctrine  of  Democritus  made  his  specula- 
tions on  optics  suffer  in  comparison  with  those  of  Alcmseon 
and  Empedocles.  They  represent  a  cruder  and  a  more 
primitive  stage  of  thought,  nor  are  we  in  a  position  to  say 
how  he  himself  dealt  with  the  difficulties  that  arose  out  of 
his  own  hypothesis.  Two  possibilities  suggest  themselves. 
Either  he  must  have  failed  to  notice  that  this  incessant 
shedding  of  thin  atomic  layers  or  membranes  (called  by 
him  "idols"  or  images)  must  in  course  of  time  have 
brought  about  a  considerable  diminution  in  the  substantial 
bulk  of  bodies,  or  else  he  must  have  met  this  objection  by 
a  reference  to  the  perishableness  of  all  objects  of  sense. 
One  point  only  in  this  strange  theory  is  deserving  of  praise. 
So  far  as  it  traced  hallucinations  and  so-called  subjective 
sensations  of  all  kinds  to  these  "  images  "  introduced  from 
outside,  it  agreed  with  modern  science  in  not  destroying 
every  link  of  community  between  the  sensations  produced 
by  the  most  diverse  kinds  of  stimulus,  and  in  that  point 
alone.  But,  instead  of  emphasizing  the  common  subjective 
factor,  it  rather  did  the  reverse  ;  instead  of  recognizing  and 
asserting,  as  we  now  do,  the  specific  energy  of  the  nerves  of 
sense,  and  thus  assimilating  perception  to  hallucination,  it 
rather  assimilated  hallucination  to  perception.  In  all  this 
we  have  no  right  to  be  surprised.  We  have  only  to  recall 
the  foundation  of  the  doctrine  on  the  unshaken  and  un- 
reasoning belief  in  matter  as  the  sole  and  only  reality,  a 
belief  undisturbed  by  any  scepticism  or  any  trace  of 
refined  and  matured  self-consciousness,  in  order  to  extend 
it  our  free  pardon. 

We  have  spoken  of  the  mind  of  Democritus  as  exempt 
from  scepticism,  and  we  repeat  this  claim,  though  there 
are  several  utterances  in  the  sparse  fragments  of  his 
works  which  may  produce  the  opposite  appearance.  But 
it  is  merely  apparent  and  nothing  more.  Three  groups 
of  sentiment  may  be  distinguished  which  have  not  been 
kept  apart  with  sufficient  care.  Democritus,  like  Faust, 
was  "  consumed  at  heart "  because,  despite  the  thought  and 
trouble  and  research  of  a  long  life  devoted  to  science,  his 
sum  of  knowledge  was  so  small  that  he  could  only  cast  a 


IVAS   DEMOCRITUS   A    SCEPTIC?  359 

few  fitful  and  furtive  glances  into  the  secrets  of  nature. 
"  Truth  dwelleth  in  the  deep  ; "  "  reality  is  shut  out  from 
human  ken  ; " — these  and  similar  sighs  of  a  labouring  spirit 
are  still  preserved  in  the  fragments  of  his  work  entitled  "Cor- 
roborations," which  pursued  mainly  an  inductive  or  empirical 
method,  in  deliberate  opposition,  perhaps,  to  the  a  priori 
tendencies  of  Leucippus.  In  a  further  passage  of  the  same 
treatise  we  read  the  following  plaintive  protest:  "We  per- 
ceive in  fact  nothing  certain,  but  such  things  only  as  change 
with  the  state  of  our  body,  and  of  that  which  enters  it,  and 
which  resists  it."  The  attempt  might  be  made  to  infer  from 
this  passage  that  Democritus  was  a  victim,  though  merely 
for  a  time,  to  the  principles  of  scepticism.  But  in  drawing 
such  a  conclusion  we  should  err  with  the  ancient  sceptic, 
to  whom  we  owe  the  quotation,  and  who  forced  it  to  sub- 
serve his  own  teaching,  in  overlooking  one  point  which  is 
'really  sufficiently  obvious.  The  protest  in  question  was 
founded  on  the  very  nature  of  the  body  about  which  the 
philosopher,  when  he  penned  those  words,  was  no  more 
dubious  than  at  any  other  time.  "  In  truth  there  are  atoms 
and  vacuum  " — this  was  the  fundamental  theory  of  Demo- 
critus, and  no  shadow  of  a  doubt  ever  approached  him  as 
to  its  unconditional  validity.  We  may  assert  this  the  more 
definitely  because  Sextus  himself,  the  ancient  sceptic  who 
would  have  greeted  the  great  Atomist  as  a  brother,  and 
who  searched  through  his  writings  to  this  end  with  tireless 
industry  and  persistency,  was  yet  wholly  unable  to  discover 
the  evidence  that  he  looked  for. 

We  pause  at  the  challenge  of  Colotcs,  He  quotes 
a  remark  from  Democritus  which  utterly  destroyed  all 
certainty  of  knowledge,  and  which,  in  the  words  of  this 
favourite  pupil  of  Epicurus,  "brought  life  itself  into  confu- 
sion." But  the  challenge  has  long  since  been  met.  The 
seemingly  incriminating  remark  is  not  a  proof  of  the  loose 
hold  which  his  principles  possessed  over  the  mind  of 
Democritus  ;  it  affords,  on  the  contrary,  direct  evidence 
of  the  unshaken  confidence  with  which  he  clung  to  his 
fundamental  view  and  to  the  consequences  it  entailed. 
The  .sentence  in  question   ran   as  foUows :    "An  object    is 


360  GREEK    THINKERS. 

not  naturally  constituted  in  one  way  any  more  than  in 
another,"  but  the  context  in  which  it  occurs  makes  it  irre- 
futably clear  that  it  refers  expressly  to  those  qualities  of 
objects  which  modern  science  terms  "  secondary,"  and  to 
which,  as  our  readers  already  know,  Democritus  denied 
objective  reality.  And  the  remark  proscribed  by  Colotes 
was  admirably  suited  to  point  this  distinction  in  the  most 
emphatic  way  possible.  The  sweet  taste  of  honey  to 
a  man  in  good  health,  its  bitter  taste  to  the  jaundiced 
palate, — these  and  similar  facts  were  commonly  known 
and  acknowledged  ;  but,  as  generally  stated,  they  were  at 
variance  not  merely  with  that  important  distinction,  but 
even  with  ordinary  common  sense.  The  expressions  used 
were  as  loose  and  inexact  as  they  are  on  the  lips  of  most 
cultivated  people  to-day.  "  Honey,"  they  said,  as  they  still 
say,  "  is  sweet ;  but  to  those  patients  it  seejns  bitter."  To 
this  Democritus  demurred.  Truth  and  untruth,  he  con- 
tended, were  not  to  be  determined  by  a  plebiscite.  In 
such  a  case,  if  many  men  had  jaundice  and  only  a  few 
were  free  from  it,  the  standard  of  truth  would  be  altered. 
It  was  not  a  difference  of  fact  and  semblance,  but  merely 
of  majority  and  minority.  The  one  sensation,  he  main- 
tained, was  just  as  subjective,  just  as  relative,  just  as 
exterior  to  the  object,  as  the  other.  Normal  sweetness 
was  no  more  an  objective  quality  of  honey  than  its  ab- 
normal bitterness.  Honey  was  not  sweet  "  any  more  than  " 
it  was  bitter.  What  honey  was  in  his  theory  was  a  com- 
plex of  atoms  of  such  and  such  a  shape,  size,  and  position, 
and  containing  such  and  such  a  proportion  of  vacuum. 
The  rest  was  nothing  but  the  effect  exercised  by  it  on  other 
bodies,  and  among  them  on  the  human  organs  of  taste. 
That  effect,  again,  must  partly  depend  on  those  organs 
and  on  their  permanent  or  temporary,  common  or  individual 
qualities.  Democritus  was  never  assailed  by  any  scruple 
whatsoever  as  to  the  objective  existence  of  bodies  and 
their  attributes.  He  was  rather  animated  by  the  desire  to 
sever  as  sharply  and  as  definitely  as  possible  the  unchange- 
ableness  of  these  causes  from  the  changeableness  of  the 
effects  which  they  exerted  in  combination  with  the  varying 


GENUINE   AND    OBSCURE   KNOWLEDGE.        36 1 

subjective  factor,  and  thus  to  prevent  the  spread  of  the 
scepticism  aroused  by  those  changes  into  the  domain  of 
the  unchangeable.  On  this  account  alone  Democritus  said 
what  he  did  say. 

The  third  and  last  of  the  groups  in  which  these  frag- 
ments of  Democritus  fall  contains  the  celebrated  passage 
in  which  a  distinction  was  drawn  between  genuine  and 
obscure  knowledge.  His  chef  d'mivre  was  a  work  in  three 
books  on  reasoning,  entitled  "  The  Canon,"  which  presum- 
ably founded  and  discussed  a  system  of  inductive  logic. 
Somewhere  in  this  work  the  following  sentences  occurred. 
"  There  are  two  kinds  of  insight,  the  genuine  and  the 
obscure.  To  the  obscure  belong  all  these :  sight,  hearing, 
smell,  taste,   touch ;    but    the    genuine,  which    is   severed 

from  it "     But  here  the  haste  of  Sextus,  our  authority, 

has  robbed  us  of  the  end  of  the  extract.  Still,  enough  has 
been  preserved  to  lend  a  show  of  correctness  to  those  critics 
who  would  call  the  physicist  of  Abdera  a  metaphysician  or 
ontologist.  It  may  well  be  argued  that  he  made  a  clean 
sweep  of  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  and  that  nothing  was 
left  to  him,  accordingly,  save  to  take  refuge  on  the  heights 
of  pure  Being.  But  cavalierly  as  Sextus  dealt  with  his 
author,  the  extract  can  nevertheless  be  used  to  rectify  this 
first  erroneous  impression.  After  a  brief  interlude  he 
resumed  the  dropped  thread  of  his  disquisition,  and  added 
a  second  sentence  to  the  first.  Unfortunately,  it  is  like- 
wise a  mutilated,  probably  a  decapitated,  sentence.  Genuine 
cognition  begins,  so  Democritus  wrote,  "where  the  obscure 
is  no  longer  (adequate),  where  it  cannot  perceive  the  minutely 
small  either  by  sight  or  hearing,  or  smell  or  taste  or  touch, 
but  the  object  becomes  too  fine  for  that  purpose."  In  a 
word,  Democritus  was  longing  for  a  microscope  of  ideal  power. 
Had  he  possessed  such  an  instrument,  he  would  have  sub- 
tracted colour  from  what  it  showed  him  as  a  subjective 
accretion,  and  would  have  accepted  what  was  left  as  the 
highest  attainable  objective  truth.  The  reproach  that  he 
levelled  at  the  senses  collectively  was  that  their  evidence  did 
not  extend  far  enough  ;  that  they  deserted  us  at  the  ])oint 
where  the  minutest  bodies  and  the  most  delicate  processes 


362  GREEK   THINKERS. 

were  to  be  got  at,  from  which  the  material  masses  and 
the  processes  obtaining  in  them  are  composed.  Corporeal 
things  and  material  processes  were  likewise  in  his  view  the 
objects  of  the  genuine  or  undisturbed  knowledge  which 
transcended  the  limits  of  obscure  or  disturbed  cognition. 
Lacking  the  ideal  instruments  of  precision,  which  we  still 
do  not  possess,  the  aids  to  knowledge  which  Democritus 
obtained  were  naturally  nothing  but  inferences,  though  they 
were  inferences  of  a  kind  intended  for  no  other  purpose  than 
to  lighten  the  darkness  of  the  material  world,  and  resting  on 
no  other  foundation  than  the  evidence  of  the  senses,  inade- 
quate and  untrustworthy  indeed,  but  not  wholly  to  be 
rejected,  and  capable  of  considerable  use  by  their  mutual 
powers  of  self-correction  and  control.  These  inferences  of 
his  were  obviously  based  on  analogy,  or  rather,  in  as  far  as 
they  were  more  strictly  formulated,  they  were  inductive 
inferences  which  started  from  perceptible  facts,  and,  pre- 
mising that  the  forces  or  qualities  thus  obtained  were  valid 
beyond  the  limits  of  perception,  attempted  to  overstep  those 
limits  both  in  space  and  time.  We  are  now  in  a  position  to 
resume  in  a  few  words  the  facts  bearing  on  the  scepticism  of 
Democritus.  Beyond  its  pale  may  be  placed  not  merely  his 
belief  in  the  corporeal  world,  but  also  his  fundamental  hypo- 
theses anent  the  composition  of  bodies  out  of  atoms  and 
vacuum  as  well  as  the  primary  qualities  of  matter.  This 
region  of  the  highest  knowledge  was  situated  on  the  heights 
above  scepticism,  whereas  another  region  was  situated  below 
it.  That  second  region  was  occupied  by  those  secondary 
or  subjective  phenomena  which,  strictly  speaking,  are 
neither  true  nor  false,  but  simply  the  effects  of  natural 
causes,  at  once  inevitable  and  undeniable.  It  was  the 
middle  region  between  the  two,  that  of  the  detailed 
explanation  of  nature,  which  formed  the  play-ground 
of  the  doubts  and  scruples  by  which  Democritus  was 
tormented  and  confused.  He  was  constantly  engaged  in 
trying  to  reconcile  the  two  spheres  of  thought.  He  was 
constantly  asking  himself  what  real  processes,  remote  from 
direct  perception,  were  to  be  presumed  behind  the  pheno- 
mena that  were  revealed  to  the  senses ;  and  what   bodily 


CRITICISM   OF  ARISTOTLE.  363 

movements  were  to  be  pre-supposed  in  order  to  harmonize 
these  phenomena  with  the  known  forces  of  nature  or 
qualities  of  things.  The  mind  of  Democritus  dwelt  by 
choice  on  the  details  of  investigation,  and  it  was  problems 
of  this  kind  that  drove  him  again  and  again  to  question 
the  adequacy  of  his  internal  and  external  auxiliaries,  and 
that  drew  from  his  heart  the  bitter  reiterated  complaint 
which  affords  such  striking  evidence  of  his  insatiable 
thirst  for  knowledge  and  his  unappeasable  criticism  of 
self 

9.  The  rules  of  investigation  contained  in  the  "  Canon  " 
of  Democritus  have  long  since  been  lost  and  forgotten.  We 
can  only  deduce  them  to-day  from  his  practice,  or  rather 
from  the  criticism  which  that  practice  entailed.  His  chief 
critic  was  Aristotle,  who  deserves  our  best  thanks  in  that 
respect,  though  we  cannot  always  subscribe  to  his  views. 
One  reproach,  indeed,  directed  by  Aristotle  at  the  method 
of  Democritus  is  changed  in  our  eyes  into  a  title  to  the 
highest  honour.  He  blamed  the  philosopher  of  Abdera  for 
proposing  in  the  ultimate  resort  no  other  solution  of  the 
problems  of  natural  processes  than  "  it  is  so  or  it  happens 
so  always,"  or  "it  has  happened  heretofore  likewise."  In 
other  words,  Democritus  recognized  experience  as  the  ulti- 
mate source  of  our  knowledge  of  nature.  The  chain  of  our 
deductions  might  be  infinitely  long  and  its  links  might  be 
as  many  as  possible,  but  at  last,  he  argued,  we  must  reach 
a  point  where  elucidation  stops  short,  and  where  nothing  is 
left  to  us  but  to  admit  a  fact  capable  of  no  further  deduc- 
tion. Every  deductive  process  rests  in  the  last  resort  on 
inductions — this  is  a  fundamental  truth  which  Aristotle 
himself  never  actually  disputed.  But  in  individual  instances 
his  desire  for  explanation  would  frequently  not  rest  satisfied 
with  the  admission  of  ultimate  facts  based  solely  on  ex- 
perience and  entirely  impervious  to  human  insight.  Too 
often  his  theory  of  nature  introduced  a  pseudo-explanation 
where  it  ought  actually  to  have  abandoned  all  further  search 
for  knowledge.  Democritus  had  no  such  disposition  to  sub- 
stitute sham  explanations  derived  for  the  most  part  from 
an  insidious  prejudice.     As  he  had  rejected  the  arbitrary 


364  GREEK    THINKERS. 

assumption,  which  we  have  already  discussed  to  satiety, 
that  matter  must  have  received  its  first  motive  impulse 
from  without,  so  he  stood  aloof  from  the  Platonic- Aristo- 
telian theory  of  "natural  places" — the  tendency  of  fiery 
matter  upwards,  of  earthy  matter  downwards,  and  so  forth. 
Accordingly,  when  Aristotle  accuses  Democritus  and  Leu- 
cippus  of  "carelessly  neglecting  to  investigate  the  origin 
of  motion,"  modern  science  adopts  unreservedly  the  cause  of 
the  defendants  and  not  of  the  plaintiff.  There  is  a  marked 
resemblance  between  the  criticism  directed  by  Aristotle  at 
the  treatment  of  these  questions  by  the  Atomists,  and  the 
reproaches  aimed  against  Galilei  and  his  method  of  natural 
research  in  the  correspondence  of  Descartes  with  Mersenne. 
In  the  one  case  as  in  the  other  we  see  the  spirit  of  meta- 
physics incapable  of  appreciating  the  work  of  the  less  pre- 
tentious but  more  fruitful  empirical  methods. 

When  we  come  to  the  problem  of  design  and  its  treat- 
ment, it  is  more  difiicult  to  frame  a  fair  judgment  on  the 
rights  and  wrongs  of  this  controversy.  The  Atomists  left 
the  conception  of  design  altogether  on  one  side  in  their 
view  of  the  origin  and  arrangement  of  the  world,  or  rather 
of  the  worlds.  They  confined  their  efforts  to  following  and 
tracing  back  as  far  as  possible  the  road  of  the  mechanical 
explanation  of  nature.  Nay,  even  when  they  reached  the 
processes  of  organic  life,  they  did  not  attempt  to  strike  out 
a  new  path  of  elucidation.  On  both  charges  alike  they 
incurred  the  reproach  of  Aristotle.  In  his  eyes  the  assump- 
tion that  the  order  and  beauty  of  the  universe  were  of 
spontaneous  growth  was  just  as  inadequate  as  the  second 
assumption,  that  the  adaptation  of  means  to  ends  in  the 
structure  of  animals  and  plants  had  occurred  without  the 
control  of  an  immanent  principle  of  purpose,  or,  to  use  the 
word  coined  by  Karl  Ernst  von  Baer  and  precisely  corre- 
sponding to  Aristotle's  meaning,  had  been  developed  without 
Zielstrehigkeit  or  "  spontaneous  teleology."  In  his  eyes, 
again,  their  proceeding  in  this  respect  was  just  as  silly  as 
to  argue  that  in  tapping  a  dropsical  patient  the  cause  of 
the  process  was  the  lancet  of  the  surgeon,  and  not  the 
desired  purpose  of  curing   the  subject  by  the  operation. 


THE   PROBLEM  OF  DESIGN.  365 

Here  we  enter  the  field  of  a  controversy  which  is  still 
raging  to-day,  and  we  know  so  little  of  the  details  of  the 
Atomistic  doctrines  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  adjudi- 
cate between  the  disputants  even  if  the  points  at  issue 
had  been  settled  at  least  in  principle.  Let  us  put  the 
question  in  a  concrete  form.  In  popular  handbooks  of 
Materialism  we  frequently  meet  a  solution  which  may  be 
stated  compendiously  as  follows :  Stags  have  long  legs  not 
in  order  that  they  may  run  swiftly,  but  they  run  swiftly 
because  they  have  long  legs.  True,  cause  and  effect  are 
likely  enough  to  be  confused  with  means  and  end,  and  this 
confusion  plays  a  conspicuous  part  in  the  history  of  human 
thought.  It  is  not  the  less  true  that  the  teleological  method 
can  frequently  be  successfully  refuted  by  the  argument 
that  only  such  forms  as  are  fit  to  endure  can  acquire  consis- 
tency and  permanence,  and  that  unfit  forms,  though  they 
may  often  arise,  must  sooner  or  later  be  destroyed,  and 
must  especially  succumb  in  the  struggle  for  existence.  But 
neither  of  these  views  would  suffice  for  a  complete  settle- 
ment of  the  problem  of  design,  unless  two  fundamental 
facts  in  the  region  of  organic  life  which  seem  to  point  to 
different  explanations  could  first  be  got  rid  of.  These  facts 
are:  (i)  the  reciprocity  and  co-operation  of  several  and 
sometimes  very  numerous  organs  and  parts  of  organs  in  one 
common  function  ;  (2)  the  structure  of  the  organs,  and 
especially  of  the  organs  of  sense  in  animal  life,  with  their 
wonderful  suitability  to  the  influence  of  outward  agents. 
Science,  invincible  science,  has  not  yet  despaired  of  finding 
the  key  to  these  great  riddles,  though  the  expectations 
which  attended  the  birth  of  Darwin's  attempt  at  solution 
in  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  have  been  some- 
what disappointed  in  the  progress  of  research,  till  the  most 
advanced  thinkers  of  to-day  recognize  in  his  "spontaneous 
variation  "  and  "  survival  of  the  fittest "  only  one  of  the 
factors  required  instead  of  their  totality.  But,  be  this  as  it 
may,  the  Atomists'  experiment  in  the  mechanical  explana- 
tion of  nature  proved  eminently  fertile — far  more  so,  in 
point  of  fact,  than  the  opposite  theories  which  paused  at  an 
earlier  stage  on  the  path  of  research,  and  set  a  i)rcmature 


366  GREEK   THINKERS. 

goal  to  the  pursuit  of  knowledge,  whether  by  the  assump- 
tion of  supernatural  intervention  or  by  the  introduction 
of  equivocal  forces  defying  all  exact  demarcation,  such  as 
the  "  vital  force  "  of  the  earlier  vitalists. 

10.  In  the  doctrine  of  Democritus  there  were  no  immov- 
able barriers  between  the  several  departments  of  terrestrial 
phenomena,  and  the  philosopher  at  the  same  time  withheld 
his  assent  from  the  plausible  division  of  the  universe  into 
essentially  different  regions.  He  recognized  no  contrast 
between  the  sublunary  world  of  change  and  the  changeless 
steadiness  of  the  divine  stars,  important  and  fatal  though  that 
difference  became  in  the  Aristotelian  system.  At  this  point 
Democritus  was  once  more  fully  in  agreement  not  merely 
with  the  opinions  of  great  men  like  Galilei,  who  released 
modern  science  from  the  fetters  of  Aristotelianism,  but  even 
with  the  actual  results  of  the  investigations  of  the  last 
three  centuries.  It  is  almost  miraculous  to  observe  how 
the  mere  dropping  of  the  scales  from  his  eyes  gave  Demo- 
critus a  glimpse  of  the  revelation  which  we  owe  to  the 
telescope  and  to  spectrum  analysis.  In  listening  to  Demo- 
critus, with  his  accounts  of  an  infinitely  large  number  of 
worlds  different  in  size,  some  of  them  attended  by  a 
quantity  of  moons,  others  without  sun  or  moon,  some  of 
them  waxing  and  others  waning  after  a  collision,  others 
again  devoid  of  every  trace  of  fluid,  we  seem  to  hear  the 
voice  of  a  modern  astronomer  who  has  seen  the  moons  of 
Jupiter,  has  recognized  the  lack  of  moisture  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  moon,  and  has  observed  the  nebulae  and 
obscured  stars  which  the  wonderful  instruments  that  have 
now  been  invented  have  made  visible  to  his  eyes.  Yet  this 
consentaneity  rested  on  scarcely  anything  else  than  the 
absence  of  a  powerful  prejudice  concealing  the  real  state 
of  things,  and  on  a  bold  but  not  an  over-bold  assumption 
that  in  the  infinitude  of  time  and  space  the  most  diverse 
possibilities  have  been  realized  and  fulfilled.  So  far  as 
the  endless  multiformity  of  the  atoms  is  concerned,  that 
assumption  has  not  won  the  favour  of  modern  science,  but 
it  has  been  completely  vindicated  in  respect  to  cosmic 
processes    and    transformations.     It    may  legitimately  be 


DEMOCRITEAN  COSMOLOGY  AND   ETHICS.      367 

said  that  the  Democritean  theory  of  the  universe  deposed 
in  principle  the  geocentric  point  of  view.  Nor  would  it 
be  unfair  to  suppose  that  Democritus  smoothed  the  way 
for  its  actual  deposition  at  the  hands  of  Aristarchus  of 
Samos.  We  shall  return  to  this  subject  in  a  subsequent 
chapter,  where  we  shall  have  to  show  the  partially  hidden 
threads  by  which  Democritus  is  bound  no  less  to  the 
Copernicus  of  antiquity  than  to  the  great  physicists  of 
Alexandria  and  their  disciple  Archimedes,  and  by  which 
Archimedes  in  his  turn  is  connected  with  Galilei  and  other 
pioneers  of  modern  science. 

To-day,  as  two  thousand  years  ago,  the  question  is 
asked  whether  our  earth  is  the  only  home  of  living 
beings,  and  our  experience  is  still  without  data  on 
which  to  base  a  reply.  But  Democritus  and  those  who 
thought  with  him  are  not  necessarily  to  be  charged  with 
temerity  because  they  refused  to  make  an  exception  in 
that  respect  in  favour  of  the  one  star  of  which  our  know- 
ledge is  exact.  Democritus  contended  that  only  a  few 
worlds  were  without  animals  and  plants  because  the  requi- 
site fluid  was  lacking  which  should  supply  them  with 
nourishment.  And  this  dictum  of  the  sage  is  especially 
remarkable,  inasmuch  as  it  was  obviously  based  on  the 
assumption  of  the  uniformity  of  the  universe  in  the  sub- 
stances composing  it  and  in  the  laws  controlling  it  which  the 
sidereal  physics  of  our  own  day  has  proved  beyond  dispute. 
He  evinced  the  same  spirit  which  animated  Metrodorus  of 
Chios,  himself  a  Democritean,  in  his  brilliant  parable  :  "  a 
single  car  of  corn  on  a  wide-spreading  champaign  would 
not  be  more  wonderful  than  a  single  cosmos  in  the  infini- 
tude of  space." 

The  genius  of  Democritus  did  not  stop  at  anticipating 
modern  cosmology,  but  inherent  in  those  speculations  was 
his  yet  more  striking  view  of  life.  How  petty  must  man 
appear  ;  how  worthless  his  aims,  pursued  by  most  of  us 
with  such  breathless  haste  ;  how  great  his  modesty  and 
humility,  how  small  his  arrogance  and  pride,  if  the 
world  he  lives  in  is  deprived  of  every  prerogative,  if  it 
loses  all   claim   to  unique   distinction,  and  becomes  in  his 


J 


68  GREEK   THINKERS. 


eyes  a  grain  of  sand  on  the  shore  of  the  infinite  !  Here,  we 
venture  to  believe,  is  the  key  to  the  ethics  of  Democritus. 
Posterity  has  characterized  the  sage  as  "the  laughing 
philosopher,"  because  he  saw  the  disproportion  of  the 
business  of  man  with  his  actual  place  and  meaning.  Un- 
fortunately, the  sources  from  which  we  are  accustomed  and, 
to  some  extent,  constrained  to  draw  for  the  details  of  his 
moral  philosophy,  are  mostly  troubled  and  untrustworthy, 
but  we  know  enough  of  one  of  his  chief  ethical  treatises 
to  sketch  in  outline  at  least  a  portion  of  its  tenour. 
It  treated  of  the  tranquillity  of  the  soul,  of  its  evdv/j-ia,  or 
"cheerfulness,"  and  it  was  remarkable  for  the  modesty 
of  the  goal  which  it  set  before  human  endeavour.  Not 
bliss,  not  happiness,  was  the  end  to  be  attained,  but  a 
state  of  bare  "well-being,"  of  a  soul's  peace  undis- 
tracted  alike  by  superstitious  fears  as  by  overmastering 
passions,  of  a  "composure"  or  equanimity  similar  to 
the  "smooth  mirror"  of  the  stormless  sea.  The  treatise 
opened  with  a  description  of  the  miserable  condition 
of  the  majority  of  mankind,  ever  unquiet,  ever  impelled 
on  a  vain  search  for  happiness,  now  seizing  one  thing  and 
now  another,  without  obtaining  permanent  satisfaction. 
The  immoderateness  of  human  desires,  the  neglect  of  the 
narrow  limits  by  which  mortal  happiness  is  confined,  the 
disturbances  wrought  by  superstition  on  man's  peace  of 
mind, — these,  it  would  seem,  were  the  chief  sources  of  un- 
happiness,  as  characterized  by  Democritus.  Our  authorities 
deny  us  the  pleasure  of  reconstructing  these  fundamental 
ideas  in  all  their  brilliant  detail.  In  the  large  quantity  of 
the  so-called  utterances  of  Democritus  in  the  field  of  moral 
philosophy  there  is  much  that  is  demonstrably  false,  and 
in  the  rest  of  the  fragments  the  critics  have  not  yet  suc- 
ceeded in  sifting  the  false  from  the  true.  Still,  there  are 
many  statements  with  a  distinctive  individuality  of  inspira- 
tion and  style  which  one  would  fain  claim  as  the  genuine 
property  of  the  sage.  Foremost  among  these  is  the 
brilliant  fragment,  unluckily  very  much  mutilated,  but  yet 
capable  of  restoration  with  practical  certainty,  in  which  the 
worst  evil  of  democratic  institutions  is  assailed.     It  attacks 


ARE    THE   ETHICAL    FRAGMENTS   GENUINE?      369 

the  dependence  of  the  authorities  on  the  judgment  of  the 
populace — on  the  very  persons,  accordingly,  whom  it  is 
their  bounden  duty  to  hold  in  check.  This  significant 
fragment  must  have  run  more  or  less  as  follows : — 

"  In  the  existing  order  of  the  State  it  is  not  possible  that  the 
rulers  should  never  do  wrong,  even  though  they  be  the  very  best. 
As  things  are,  it  is  like  delivering  the  (royal)  eagle  into  the  power 
of  the  reptiles.  But  some  means  ought  to  be  devised  to  ensure  that, 
however  severely  he  may  punish  the  evildoers,  yet  he  should  not 
be  given  over  into  their  power.  Rather  some  law  or  other  institu- 
tion ought  to  guarantee  complete  protection  to  him  who  dispenses 
judgment." 

The  genuineness,  perhaps,  of  no  one  of  these  fragments 
can  be  warranted  beyond  all  possibility  of  doubt  ;  their 
totality,  however,  paradoxical  as  it  may  sound,  is  none  the 
less  characteristic  of  the  ethics  of  Democritus.  For  let  us 
conceive  how  great  a  recoil  from  his  exclusively  mechanical 
view  of  nature  was  made  by  heathen  no  less  than  by  Chris- 
tian orthodoxy.  And  yet,  despite  that  recoil,  Christian  and 
heathen  writers  of  antiquity  vied  with  one  another  in  their 
eagerness  to  fill  the  mouth  of  the  founder  of  Atomism  with 
a  series  of  utterances,  each  and  all  of  which  were  stamped 
with  the  seal  of  sublime  sentiment,  and  were  designed  to  lead 
human  life  on  a  path  of  noble  aspiration.  Whence,  then, 
it  may  fairly  be  asked,  could  this  impression  have  been 
derived,  save  from  the  genuine  works  of  Democritus  ? 
They  must  have  borne  the  stamp  of  a  personality  exciting, 
or,  rather,  irresistibly  compelling  men's  admiration  and  awe ; 
they  can  have  contained  no  word  that  could  have  given 
even  the  weakest  handle  to  the  misinterpretation  or  depre- 
ciation of  prejudice  or  partisanship.  Even  at  this  day  a 
widespread  prejudice  exists,  to  the  effect  that  there  is  a 
necessary  connection  between  scientific  materialism  and 
what  may  be  called  ethical  materialism.  But  nothing  is 
better  calculated  to  dispel  that  obstinate  prejudice  than  the 
picture  of  the  sage  of  Abdcra  as  it  was  known  to  antiquity 
and  as  tradition  has  preserved  it  unimpaired. 

VOL.  I.  2  15 


370  GREEK   THINKERS. 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE   ECLECTIC   PHILOSOPHERS   OF   NATURE. 

I.  With  the  promulgation  of  the  Atomic  theory,  a  halt 
was  called  to  the  endeavours  of  more  than  one  century  at 
solving  the  problem  of  matter.  It  might  be  thought  that 
an  hypothesis  which  has  maintained  itself  for  over  two 
thousand  years  would  succeed  in  satisfying  contemporary 
thought  and  in  providing  a  starting-point  for  the  immediate 
further  progress  of  knowledge.  But  there  were  many 
obstacles  in  the  way.  The  art  of  experimentation  and  the 
mathematical  sciences  were  still  imperfect,  and  the  fruitful 
germ  that  was  contained  in  atomism  did  not  fall  on  a 
fortunate  soil.  A  second  circumstance  which  hindered  the 
supremacy  of  the  new  doctrine  was  the  traditional  respect 
enjoyed  by  its  older  rivals.  The  shifting  shapes  successively 
assumed  by  material  monism  were  calculated,  as  we  have 
already  seen  reason  to  believe,*  to  cancel  one  another  in 
turn,  to  destroy  the  exclusive  validity  of  every  one  of  the 
old  theories  of  matter,  and  even  to  arouse  a  scepticism 
which  affected  the  evidence  of  the  senses  themselves  and 
shook  the  common  basis  of  the  doctrine.  But  here  a  second 
effect  followed  inevitably  from  these  causes.  Purely  negative 
or  merely  sceptical  results  rarely  satisfy  more  than  a  small 
part  of  the  minds  that  are  athirst  for  knowledge.  Moreover, 
the  contrast  between  the  distinctive  individual  doctrines  of 
a  Thales,  an  Anaximenes,  a  HeracHtus,  and  so  forth  was 
counterbalanced  by  the  underlying  harmony  of  their 
fundamental  assumptions.  Meantime,  too,  other  important 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  z,i7iit. 


DIOGENES   OF  APOLLONIA.  371 

doctrines,  promulgated  by  important  men,  had  arrived  on 
the  scene.  Nothing,  then,  was  more  natural  than  the 
attempt  to  reconcile  these  authorities  one  with  another, 
to  put  prominently  forward  the  elements  they  contained 
in  common,  and  to  touch  up  and  transform  those  teach- 
ings by  which  they  were  kept  apart.  This  attempt  was 
considerably  facilitated  by  the  following  circumstance. 
All  the  ways  open,  or  at  least  those  open  in  the  ex- 
isting state  of  knowledge,  to  a  solution  of  the  problems 
of  the  universe  had  already  been  trodden.  Compromise 
and  eclecticism,  these  are  the  redeeming  words.  Under 
their  sign  stood  a  series  of  new  systems,  which  now 
come  into  view,  and  which  form  the  real  conclusion 
of  the  era  of  research,  at  the  several  stages  of  which 
we  have  made  so  long  a  pause.  In  a  previous  chapter 
we  have  made  the  acquaintance  of  Hippasus  of  Meta- 
pontum,*  an  eclectic  philosopher  of  this  kind,  who  sought 
to  reconcile  the  teaching  of  Heraclitus  with  that  of 
Pythagoras,  and  we  shall  presently  have  to  consider  other 
representatives  of  that  movement.  Its  most  distinguished 
member  was  Diogenes  of  Apollonia.  He  was  a  native  of 
Crete,  an  island  prominent  in  Greek  history  in  the  dawn 
of  the  fine  arts,  but  without  significance  in  her  literary 
development,  and  it  was  perhaps  the  fame  of  Anaxagoras 
which  attracted  him  from  those  distant  shores  to  the 
learned  capital  of  Athens,  where  his  attitude  as  a  free- 
thinker involved  him  in  a  perilous  experience  similar  to 
that  which  attended  the  great  philosopher  of  Clazomena2. 
A  comprehensive  anatomical  fragment  of  his  treatise  "  On 
the  Nature  of  Man  "  gives  evidence  of  his  familiarity  with 
the  medical  knowledge  of  his  age,  and  supports  the  con- 
jecture that  he  was  himself  a  professional  physician.  The 
object  at  which  he  aimed  was  to  harmonize  Anaxagoras 
with  Anaximenes,  or,  more  exactly  said,  to  harmoni/.c  the 
Nous-theory  of  the  one  with  the  other's  theory  of  matter. 
In  a  less  degree  he  stood  under  the  influence  of  Leucippus, 
from  whom  he  had  borrowed  the  doctrine  of  the  cosmogonic 
vortex,  and  echoes  of  whose  expressions  he  reproduces,  as, 
*  Cp.  I'.k.  I.  Ch.  V.  §4. A- 


372  GREEK    THINKERS. 

for  instance,  in  his  favourite  word  "  necessity."  Nor  can 
we  doubt,  from  the  ridicule  that  was  poured  on  him  by 
the  comic  writers,  and  from  the  references  to  his  doctrine 
in  the  dramas  of  Euripides  no  less  than  in  professional 
treatises  on  medicine,  that  Diogenes  of  Apollonia  was 
one  of  the  foremost  figures  in  the  age  of  Pericles. 

We  are  not  dependent,  however,  on  merely  indirect 
testimony  for  the  contents  of  the  system  of  Diogenes, 
which,  it  must  be  conceded,  was  conspicuously  wanting  in 
originality  and  consistency.  We  possess  comparatively 
extensive  fragments  of  his  mastervvork  "  On  Nature,"  and 
these  thoroughly  justify,  by  their  elevated  yet  simple  style 
and  unambiguous  clarity,  the  claims  to  literary  distinction 
which  he  advanced  in  the  preface  to  his  book.  Thus 
they  provide  us  with  a  remarkably  clear  insight  into  the 
motive  and  methods  of  his  inquiry,  and  they  frequently 
tell  us  in  express  language  what,  in  the  instance  of  his 
predecessors,  we  could  only  ascertain  inferentially.  Nor 
does  this  apply  least  of  all  to  the  fundamental  motive  of 
the  monistic  theory  of  matter  itself.  Its  truth  was 
established  by  Diogenes  to  his  own  satisfaction  in  the 
following  words  : — 

"  If  that  which  is  now  in  this  world,  earth  and  water  and 
whatever  else  plainly  existeth  in  this  world,  if  one  of  these  were 
different  from  the  rest,  if  it  were  different  by  its  own  nature,  and 
not  rather  the  same,  though  frequently  changed  and  altered,  then 
neither  would  objects  be  able  to  mingle  with  one  another,  nor 
could  one  object  affect  another,  prejudicially  or  beneficially  ;  then, 
too,  no  plant  could  grow  out  of  the  earth,  no  animal  or  anything 
else  be  born,  if  it  were  not  the  same  according  to  its  composition. 
Nay,  but  all  this  proceedeth  from  the  same,  becometh  by  alteration 
some  other  thing  at  some  other  time,  and  returneth  to  the  same 
again." 

Diogenes  was  further  strongly  influenced  by  the 
teleological  argument  of  Anaxagoras. 

"  For  it  is  impossible,"  he  wrote,  "  that  everything  should  thus 
be  distributed  without  intelligence  [more  exactly,  without  the 
intervention  of  a  Nous],  that  summer  and  winter,  night  and  day. 


EXTENSIVE   FRAGMENTS    OF  DIOGENES.      373 

rain,  wind,  sunshine,  and  all  else,  should  be  regulated  by  measure. 
And  he  who  reflecteth  over  this  and  the  rest,  will  find  that  it  is 
arranged  as  beautifully  as  possible." 

We  see,  however,  that  Diogenes  was  not  satisfied  with 
the  Nous-theory  of  Anaxagoras.  He  felt  himself  con- 
strained to  supplement  it  by  the  older  air-theory  of 
Anaximenes,  and  two  causes  may  have  induced  him  to 
take  this  step.  The  theory  of  matter  promulgated  by 
Anaxagoras  may  well  have  appeared  to  him  as  absurd 
and  unjustified  as  it  actually  is.  We  venture  to  infer  this 
from  the  fact  that  he  simply  dropped  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  was  obviously  anxious  to  relate  the  Nous,  or  the  principle 
of  order  in  the  universe,  with  one  or  other  of  the  forms  of 
matter  with  which  we  are  acquainted.  In  that  way  alone 
did  its  government,  its  universal  diffusion  and  efficacy,  seem 
to  him  comprehensible  and  explicable.  He  tells  us  this 
himself  in  the  following  unequivocal  words: — 

"  And  that  which  possesseth  the  intelligence  seemeth  to  me  to  be 
what  men  call  air,  and  this  it  is  in  my  opinion  that  governeth  and 
controlleth  all  things.  For  from  air,  meseemeth,  doth  Nous 
proceed,  and" — by  means  of  this  vehicle — "penetrateth  uni- 
versally, ordereth  all  things,  and  existeth  in  all.  And  there  is  no 
single  object  that  is  without  its  share,  but  none  hath  the  same 
share  as  another.  There  are  rather  many  varieties  of  air,  as  of 
intelligence  itself.  For  it  is  of  many  kinds,  now  colder  and  now 
warmer,  now  drier  and  now  moister,  now  quieter  and  now  more 
violently  moving,  and  it  disj)layeth  countless  other  differences  in 
respect  to  smell  and  colour.  Moreover,  the  soul  of  all  living  things 
is  the  same,  namely  air,  which  is  warmer  than  the  external  air 
surrounding  us,  though  much  colder  than  the  air  about  the  sun. 
But,  comparatively  speaking,  this  heat  is  not  the  same  in  any  two 
animals  or  in  any  two  men.  The  difference  is  not  considerable  : 
it  is  sufficient  to  exclude  complete  efjuality,  though  not  to  exclude 
similarity.  But  of  all  things  liable  to  change,  no  one  thing  can 
become  any  other  thing  before  it  hath  become  the  same." 

In  other  words,  the  neces.sary  condition  and  inter- 
mediate step  for  the  issue  of  one  particular  form  of  matter 
from  another  is  its  preliminary  transition  through  the 
primary  form  of  matter. 


374  GREEK   THINKERS. 

"  Since  the  alteration  is  of  many  kinds,"  continued  Diogenes, 
"  so  too  are  living  beings,  and  in  consequence  of  the  great  number  of 
alterations  they  resemble  one  another  neither  in  appearance,  nor 
in  mode  of  life,  nor  in  intelligence.  Nevertheless  that  by  which 
all  of  them  live,  and  see,  and  hear  is  one  and  the  same,  and  the 
rest  of  their  intelligence  cometh  to  them  all  from  the  same,  namely, 
from  air." 

The  conclusion  of  a  second  fragment,  from  which  we 
have  already  quoted,  supplies  the  evidence  for  the  last  of 
these  statements. 

"  Moreover,"  it  runs,  "  this  too  is  a  powerful  proof.  Man  and 
the  rest  of  the  animals  live  by  the  air  they  breathe.  This  is 
their  soul  as  well  as  their  intelligence,  and  when  it  departeth  from 
them  they  die,  and  their  intelligence  leaveth  them." 

Diogenes  further  entitled  that  primary  being  "an 
eternal  and  immortal  body,"  or  substance ;  at  another 
time  he  called  it  "a  great,  mighty,  eternal,  immortal,  and 
multiscient  being,"  and  occasionally,  too,  he  spoke  of  it  as 
the  "deity." 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  discuss  in  detail  all  the 
teachings  of  Diogenes  as  they  were  expounded  in  his 
"  Theory  of  Heaven "  as  well  as  in  the  two  treatises  we 
have  mentioned.  He  was  an  encyclopaedist  whose  mobile 
genius  traversed  all  the  fields  of  knowledge  which  the 
science  of  his  age  had  discovered.  He  derived  his 
impulses  from  every  side,  he  learned  from  all  masters, 
and,  though  he  never  completely  reconciled  either  for 
himself  or  for  his  readers  all  their  various  teachings,  yet 
he  impressed  on  them  the  common  seal  of  his  own  mind. 
All  the  roads  of  investigation  which  his  predecessors  had 
trodden  led  him  to  his  principle  of  air,  and  the  secret  of 
the  success  he  attained  lay  in  his  combination  of  versatility 
and  one-sidedness,  of  indiscriminate  eclecticism  united 
with  an  obstinate  consistency.  There  were  many  mansions 
in  the  house  of  his  eclectic  system.  It  contained  the 
mechanical  theory  of  the  universe,  the  teleological  view  of 
nature,  material  monism,  and  the  rule  of  an  intelligent 
principle  in  matter.     It  did  not  abandon  the  doctrine  of  a 


HIS  ECLECTICISM  AND    ONE-SIDEDNESS.      375 

single  primary  substance,  which  had  been  familiar  to 
Greek  learning  for  several  generations.  It  did  not  reject 
the  assumption  of  a  directing  principle  which  adapted 
means  to  ends,  indispensable  in  the  recent  opinion  of 
many  thinkers.  The  origin  of  cosmos  in  the  blind 
government  of  Necessity  had  been  admirably  argued  and 
widely  adopted,  and  this  doctrine  too  was  an  ingredient  in 
the  new  philosophic  cauldron.  The  vortex  of  Leucippus 
found  a  place  side  by  side  with  the  Nous  of  Anaxagoras, 
and  the  Nous  had  to  make  up  its  mind  to  live  at  peace 
with  the  air-god  of  Anaximenes.  Nor  was  there  anything 
in  the  new-fangled  science  to  shock  the  beliefs  of  the 
orthodox.  Homer,  declared  Diogenes,  was  not  the 
author  of  myths  or  fairy  tales  ;  he  merely  used  such  aids 
as  a  vehicle  for  telling  the  truth.  His  Zeus  was  air  and 
nothing  but  air.  In  other  words,  Diogenes  was  the  first 
to  break  fresh  ground  in  introducing  the  allegorical 
method  in  national  poetry  and  religion.  In  this  he  was 
the  forerunner  of  the  Stoics,  who  owed  to  him  likewise, 
through  the  intervention  of  the  Cynics,  several  of  their 
doctrines  in  physics. 

And  now  for  the  reverse  of  the  medal,  where  we  reach 
the  extreme  one-sidedness  of  Diogenes,  who  affected  to 
recognize  in  all  phenomena,  physical,  cosmological,  physio- 
logical, and  even  psychical,  the  operation  of  a  single  prin- 
ciple of  matter.  Air,  in  his  opinion,  was  the  vehicle  of 
all  sense-perception.  In  imitation  doubtless  of  Leucippus, 
he  explained  visual  perception  as  an  impression  made  by 
the  object  perceived  on  the  pupil  of  the  eye  through  the 
medium  of  air,  but  he  added  the  original  complementary 
explanation  that  the  pupil  communicated  the  impression 
to  the  brain  through  the  same  medium  once  more.  Wc 
may  remark,  by  way  of  parenthesis,  that  he  probably  learnt 
from  Alcmaeon  to  regard  the  brain  as  the  sensorium  i)ropcr. 
Further,  Diogenes  was  acquainted  with  the  inflammation 
of  the  nerve  of  sight  and  with  the  blindness  that  results 
from  it,  a  process  which  he  explained  in  the  following 
manner.  The  nerve  he  regarded  as  a  vein,  and  he  believed 
that  the  vein,  when  inflamed,  hindered  the  entrance  of  the 


376  GREEK   THINKERS. 

air  into  the  brain,  and  thus  prevented  the  visual  per- 
ception, though  the  picture  might  appear  on  the  pupil  of 
the  eye.  Man's  higher  intelligence,  in  the  opinion  of  this 
thinker,  was  the  boon  of  his  upright  gait.  He  breathed  a 
purer  air  than  the  four-legged  animals  who  walked  with 
their  heads  bowed  earthwards  ;  and  this  view,  that  they 
inhaled  an  air  tainted  by  the  moistures  of  the  soil,  was 
applied  by  Diogenes  in  a  less  degree  to  children  also  with 
their  smaller  stature.  Air  and  its  influence  on  the  blood 
were  likewise  invoked  to  explain  the  passions  as  well. 
When  the  nature  of  the  air  was  unsuited  to  mingle  with 
the  blood,  which  became  accordingly  less  mobile  and  more 
coagulated,  a  feeling  of  pain  was  produced  ;  and,  in  the 
contrary  instance,  when  the  movement  of  the  blood  was 
accelerated  by  air,  the  result  was  a  sensation  of  pleasure. 
Here,  however,  we  may  fitly  pause.  Though  this  theory, 
owing  to  the  reasons  we  have  mentioned  above,  did  not 
fail  to  exercise  a  powerful  influence  on  its  author's  contem- 
poraries, yet  its  omissions  incurred  the  biting  criticism  of 
posterity,  and  its  absurdities  were  the  butt  of  the  ridicule 
of  the  comic  Muse.  Thus  Theophrastus,  in  his  brilliant 
critical  review  of  the  psychology  of  Diogenes,  exclaimed 
that  the  birds  should  surpass  us  in  understanding,  if  it  be 
true  that  the  purity  of  the  air  we  breathe  is  the  measure 
of  the  excellence  and  refinement  of  our  reason.  Why,  he 
asked,  should  not  our  whole  thought  be  changed  with  every 
change  of  residence  according  as  we  breathe  the  air  of  the 
mountains  or  the  marshes  .''  The  erudite  pupil  of  Aristotle 
found  himself  for  once  in  striking  agreement  with  "the 
undisciplined  favourite  of  the  Graces,"  for  Aristophanes  in 
his  "Clouds,"  produced  in  the  year  423  B.C.,  lashed  with 
his  biting  satire  the  most  diverse  manifestations  of  the  era 
of  enlightenment,  and  did  not  spare,  as  has  long  since  been 
remarked,  the  doctrines  of  the  sage  of  Apollonia.  We 
hear  this  in  the  blasphemous  cry,  "  Long  live  King  Vortex, 
who  has  dethroned  Zeus  ; "  we  see  it  in  the  spectacle  of 
Socrates  swinging  in  his  basket  above  the  earth  in  order 
to  inhale  the  purest  intelligence  through  an  atmosphere 
undefiled  by  the  moisture  of  the  soil ;  we  mark  it  again  in 


HIPPO,    ARCHELAUS,   AND   METRODORUS.      377 

the  goddess  "  Respiration  "  to  whom  the  Socratic  disciples 
lift  up  their  hands  in  prayer ;  and  we  discern  it  finally  in 
the  Chorus  of  the  Cloud-women,  who  were  provided  with 
enormous  noses  in  order  to  take  in  as  much  of  the  spirit 
of  the  air  as  possible.  Each  and  all  of  these  examples  of 
the  wit  of  Aristophanes  were  aimed  at  the  philosophy  of 
Diogenes,  and  were  doubtless  received  in  the  theatre  at 
Athens  with  storms  of  laughter  and  applause. 

2.  The  derision  of  the  philosophy  of  the  age  was  not 
confined  to  Aristophanes.  An  older  comic  writer,  the 
bibulous  poet  Cratinus,  devoted  one  of  his  dramas  to  that 
theme.  It  was  called  "  The  Omniscients "  (7ravo7rra<),  a 
title  properly  applied  only  to  Zeus  himself  and  to  Argus, 
the  thousand-eyed  guardian  of  lo,  but  here  extended  to 
characterize  with  bitter  satire  the  adepts  of  philosophy  who 
affected  to  hear  the  grass  grow.  The  "  Omniscients  "  who 
formed  the  Chorus  of  the  play  were  recognizable  at  once 
by  their  masks  composed  of  two  heads  and  countless  eyes. 
The  butt  of  the  satire  in  this  instance  was  not  Diogenes, 
but  Hippo — Hippo  the  atheist,  either  alone  or  with  others, 
who  had  come  to  Athens  from  Lower  Italy,  if  not  from 
Samos.  We  are  but  imperfectly  acquainted  with  the 
life  and  work  of  this  thinker,  of  whose  writings  there  sur- 
vives but  a  single  brief  fragment,  and  whom  Aristotle 
reckoned  as  one  of  the  "coarser"  minds,  hardly  deserving 
the  name  of  philosopher,  on  account  of  "the  tenuity  of  his 
thought."  We  range  him  here  with  the  eclectics  because 
he  was  obviously  at  pains  to  weld  the  teachings  of  Parme- 
nides  with  those  of  Thales.  Thus  the  van  of  his  cosmic 
process  was  led  by  "  the  moist,"  from  which  "  the  cold " 
and  "  the  warm "  (water  and  fire)  proceeded,  with  fire  as 
the  active  cosmogonic  principle,  and  water  as  the  passive 
matter. 

Nearer  to  Diogenes  than  Hippo  was  Archelaus,  a  native 
of  Athens  or  Miletus.  He  was  known  as  a  disciple  of 
Anaxagoras,  though  he  transformed  his  master's  teaching 
so  considerably  that  he  may  almost  be  said  to  have  reformed 
it  on  older  models.  His  cosmogony  in  especial  bore  the 
traces  of  these  differences.    He  did  not  admit  the  application 


T,7h  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  Nous  to  matter  from  outside  in  order  to  organize  it  and  to 
mould  it  to  a  cosmos.  Archelaus,  if  we  have  understood  the 
evidence  aright,  was  rather  of  opinion  that  Nous  was  origi- 
nally inherent  to  matter,  and  in  that  respect  he  approached 
more  closely  to  the  older  representatives  of  the  philosophy 
of  nature,  and  likewise,  it  is  legitimate  to  add,  to  the  spirit 
of  the  old  Greek  view  of  the  world.  Taking  these  facts  in 
connection  with  his  craving  to  discern  something  divine  in 
substance — -a  craving  that  was  not  satisfied  by  the  dispersion 
of  matter  whether  into  infinitesimally  small  "  seeds "  or 
into  the  atoms  of  Leucippus — it  was  but  natural  that  Arche- 
laus employed  himself  similarly  to  Diogenes  of  Apollonia 
in  building  a  serviceable  bridge  between  the  doctrines  of 
Anaxagoras  and  Anaximenes.  He  did  not  reject  the 
countless  elements  which  the  sage  of  Clazomenae  had 
entitled  "  seeds "  or  o/jLoiofiepeLai ;  but  the  great  material 
forms  which  had  played  the  chief  part  in  the  theory  of  the 
"physiologists"  were  again  brought  into  prominence.  The 
primary  form  of  those  "  seeds,"  and  at  the  same  time  the 
seat  of  Nous,  the  intellectual  principle  which  first  regulated 
cosmos,  was  represented  by  air,  as  the  most  immaterial, 
so  to  say,  of  material  substances.  Out  of  this  intermediate 
stage  fire  and  water,  the  vehicles  of  motion  and  rest,  were 
produced  by  rarefaction  and  condensation,  or  by  the  dis- 
junction and  conjunction  of  the  "seeds."  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  Archelaus  was  influenced 
at  this  point,  not  merely  by  the  philosophy  of  Anaximenes, 
but  by  that  of  Parmenides,  if  not  of  Anaximander  himself. 
A  higher  degree  of  originality  would  appear  to  attach  to  his 
attempt  to  describe  the  rudiments  of  human  society  and 
the  fundamental  conceptions  of  Ethics  and  Politics.  To 
this,  however,  we  shall  have  to  return  in  another  connection. 
3.  Another  pupil  of  Anaxagoras  was  Metrodorus  of 
Lampsacus.  He  displayed  the  same  desire  to  reconcile 
the  old  with  the  new,  to  harmonize,  in  the  present  instance, 
the  new  science  with  the  old  faith.  Unfortunately,  our  first 
impression  of  his  allegorical  key  to  Homer  is  one  of  disgust 
at  its  grotesque  extravagance.  We  cannot  conceive  what 
induced  him  to  identify  Agamemnon  with  ether,  Achilles 


ALLEGORIZING   INTERPRETATION   OF  HOMER.    379 

with  the  sun,  Hector  with  the  moon,  Paris  and  Helen  with 
the  air  and  the  earth,  or  to  establish  a  parallel  between 
portions  of  the  animal  body,  the  liver,  the  spleen,  and  the 
bile,  on  the  one  part,  and  Demeter,  Dionysus,  and  Apollo 
on  the  other.  We  are  reminded  by  these  experiments  of 
the  worst  excesses  of  the  interpreters  of  the  myths  in  our 
own  day,  not  to  speak  of  kindred  fantastic  exercises  of 
other  epochs,  in  all  of  which  the  desire  is  manifest  to  dis- 
cover in  sacred  writings,  the  literal  truth  of  which  can  no 
longer  be  upheld,  the  mere  husk  of  completely  different 
beliefs.  We  may  recall,  for  instance,  the  Greek  Jew,  Philo 
of  Alexandria,  with  his  religious  philosophy,  who  perceived 
in  the  garden  of  Eden  the  symbol  of  the  divine  wisdom, 
in  the  four  streams  that  issued  from  it  the  four  cardinal 
virtues,  in  the  altar  and  tabernacle  the  "intelligible"  or 
ideal  objects  of  cognition,  and  so  forth.  Rightly,  indeed, 
did  Ernest  Renan  remark  about  Philo's  allegorizing  inter- 
pretation of  the  scriptures,  that  the  root  of  his  method, 
which  was  fraught  with  such  important  consequences,  alien 
though  it  be  to  the  true  spirit  of  science,  is  founded  in  piety, 
and  not  in  arbitrary  wantonness.  "Before  one  determines," 
he  wrote,  "to  reject  the  teachings  of  a  cherished  faith"  (or 
the  authority  of  highly-esteemed  writings)  "  one  has  recourse 
to  every  kind  of  identification,  even  to  the  most  untenable  ;  " 
one  has  recourse,  that  is  to  say,  to  explanations  which 
create  a  sense  of  wild  absurdity  outside  the  charmed  circle  of 
believers.  In  the  present  instance  Metrodorus  was  entering 
and  courageously  pursuing  a  path  which  had  been  opened 
long  before  his  day.  Already  in  the  sixth  century  Thea- 
genes  of  Rhegium  had  applied  the  panacea  of  allegory  to 
the  authority  of  Homer  which  Xenophanes  had  assailed  so 
bitterly.  The  battle  of  the  gods  in  the  twentieth  book  of 
the  Iliad  had  given  considerable  offence.  The  sound 
reason,  not  to  speak  of  the  sound  morality,  of  mankind 
had  naturally  been  scandalized  by  the  sight  of  the  heavenly 
powers,  who  had  come  to  be  regarded  more  and  more  as 
the  types  of  a  uniform  order  in  nature  as  in  conduct,  joined 
in  actual  hand-to-hand  combat.  The  scandal  had  to 
be   explained   away,   and   an   expedient  was  found  in  the 


o 


80  GREEK   THINKERS. 


sense  that  the  Homeric  deities  represented  partly  inimical 
elements,  partly  contrary  qualities  of  human  nature.  A 
kind  of  handle  was  afforded  for  the  first  of  these  categories 
of  explanation  by  the  fact  that  Hephaestus  the  god  of  fire, 
and  Poseidon  the  lord  of  the  sea,  the  twins  Apollo  and 
Artemis,  who,  if  not  originally  identical  with  the  sun  and 
the  moon,  were  at  least  frequently  identified  with  those 
divinities,  and  lastly  Xanthus  the  river-god,  were  all  par- 
ticipants in  the  fight.  Another  considerable  aid  was  the 
inexhaustible  stores  of  etymology  which  the  ancients  found 
so  malleable,  and  all  kinds  of  moralizing  reflections  were 
added,  among  which  may  be  mentioned  the  happy  thought, 
worthy  of  an  Elihu  Burritt,  that  Ares  the  war-god  was  the 
personification  of  un-reason,  and  was  thus  the  antagonist 
of  reason  incarnate  in  Athene,  In  this  connection  we  first 
meet  the  name  of  Theagenes  as  the  earliest  "apologist" 
for  the  Homeric  poemSv  Even  Democritus  and  Anaxa- 
goras  did  not  disdain  to  contribute  their  mite  to  the 
allegorical  interpretation  of  the  national  poetry  ;  Diogenes 
of  Apollonia  has  already  been  mentioned  in  the  same 
context ;  and  in  Antisthenes,  the  disciple  of  Socrates,  we 
shall  meet  yet  another  representative  of  the  movement, 
which  passed  from  the  keeping  of  his  followers,  the  Cynics, 
into  that  of  the  Stoic  school,  where  it  attained  its  highest 
development. 


(     38i     ) 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE   BEGINNINGS   OF   MENTAL   AND    MORAL   SCIENCE. 

I.  The  constant  increase  in  the  attempts  to  effect  a  com- 
promise between  the  old  and  the  new  in  the  national 
view  of  the  universe  and  human  life  helps  us  to  measure 
the  gulf  which  had  opened  between  the  two.  Our  readers 
are  already  acquainted  with  the  chief  manifestations  of 
this  cleavage.  They  have  learnt  of  the  silent  growth  of 
the  empirical  knowledge  of  nature.  They  have  seen  the 
spirit  of  criticism  seeking  its  springs  of  nourishment  in  the 
deepened  speculation  of  philosophers,  in  the  wider  intel- 
lectual horizon,  revealed  by  geographers  and  ethnologists, 
in  the  schools  of  disputatious  physicians,  and  in  the  larger 
faith  in  sense-perception,  as  opposed  to  arbitrary  assump- 
tions of  all  kinds,  which  resulted  from  that  cause.  Here,  then, 
we  must  go  back  in  order  to  go  forward.  We  must  inquire 
into  the  changes  undergone  by  Greek  politics  and  society 
since  the  age  of  the  tyrants,*  in  order  to  extend  our  survey 
of  the  progress  of  Hellenic  civilization.  In  Athens,  which 
is  henceforward  to  be  considered  as  the  seat  and  centre  of 
the  Greek  mind,  the  social  struggle,  as  elsewhere,  had  ended 
with  the  victory  of  the  middle  classes.  The  privileges  of 
the  nobles  had  been  more  and  more  curtailed,  and  a  cor- 
responding impulse  had  been  given,  at  the  expense  of  the 
landed  interest,  to  the  influence  of  the  mobile  wealth 
derived  from  industry  and  trade.  The  population  of  the 
city  had  been  increased  by  rural  and  foreign  immigrants,  and 
the  new  residents,  who  included  many  emancipated  slaves, 

•  Cf.  Bk.  I.,  Intro.,  §  2. 


o 


82  GREEK   THINKERS. 


were   added   in   larger  numbers   to   the    civic    lists.     The 
reforms  of  Clisthenes    (509   B.C.),   which   followed  swiftly 
on   the  downfall  of  the  Pisistratidae,  had   been   expressly 
designed  to  bring  about  the  inner  reconciliation  of  these 
diverse  elements  in  Athens,  and  a  chief  factor  in  this  move- 
ment, which  finally  ended  in  a  fully  developed  democracy, 
was  supplied  by  the  Persian  wars.     The  nation  was  threat- 
ened by  an  enemy  in  overwhelming  force,  who  could  only 
be  met  with  any  prospect  of  success  by  a  rally  of  all  the 
powers  at  its  disposal.     At  an  earlier  date,  as  we  saw,  the 
rise  of  the  heavy-armed  middle-class  infantry  and  the  decline 
of  the  mounted  nobles   produced   far-reaching  effects,  and 
this  experience   was   now  repeated    in  the  employment  of 
the  masses  for  service  at  sea.     Universal  conscription  was 
followed  in  a  score  or  so  of  years    by  universal  suffrage. 
Athens,  resting  on  her  sea-power,  became   the  head   of  a 
confederacy  which  gradually  transformed  the  conditions  of 
economic  as  well  as  of  political  life.     She  enjoyed  lucrative 
commercial   monopolies  ;  she  derived    a    rich  income  from 
the  tolls,  and  from  the  tributes  and  judiciary  fees  of  the 
confederates ;  and,  finally,  the  confiscated  lands  of  a  rene- 
gade ally  would  fall  to  her  from  time  to  time  for  repartition. 
By  these  means  she  was  enabled  to  meet   the   cost   of  a 
numerous  civil  population.     The  democracy  built  on  this 
foundation   became  the  model  for   the    states   dependent 
on    Athens,    and    was    imitated   by   various   communities 
outside    of    the    federation.      And    whether    the    sceptre 
wielded  by  the  democrats  was  moderate  or  unlimited,  the 
chief  instrument  of  government  in  practically  the  whole  of 
Greece  was  the  power  of  the  tongue.     More  than  this.     It 
was  not   merely   in   the   council-chamber   and  the  popular 
assembly  that  the  efficacy  of  speech  was  supreme.     In  the 
law  courts  too,  where  hundreds  of  jurymen  would  some- 
times be  sitting  together,  words  were  the  universal  weapons, 
the  clever  manipulation  of  which   was  more  than  half  the 
battle.     The  gift  and  faculty  of  speech  were  the  sole  road 
to  honour  and  power.     And  speech,  too,  was  the  sole  pro- 
tection against  injustice  of  every  kind.    Without  that  weapon 
a  man  was  exposed  to  the  dangers  of  hostile  attack,  in  his 


RHETORIC  AND   POLITICS.  383 

own  city  and  in  times  of  peace,  as  hopelessly  and  defence- 
lessly  as  a  warrior  without  sword  or  shield  on  the  battle- 
field. It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at,  therefore,  that  the 
art  of  speech  should  have  been  cultivated  for  the  first 
time  in  the  democratic  communities  of  that  age  as 
a  profession,  and  that  it  should  have  assumed  a  promi- 
nent if  not  actually  the  first  place  in  the  education  of 
the  young.  But  the  art  of  rhetoric  is  double-faced  ;  it 
is  half  dialectic,  and  half  style  or  grammar.  Its  would- 
be  masters  were  required  to  attain  to  an  infallible  certainty 
of  expression,  in  addition  to  complying  with  the  demands 
on  their  quickness  of  thought  and  on  their  control 
of  the  manifold  principles  regulating  public  life  in  all 
its  various  departments.  Nor  was  the  tendency  of  the 
times  exhausted  by  the  increased  variety  and  earnestness 
in  the  ideals  of  formal  culture.  Thought  and  research 
were  supplied  with  new  riches  and  resources  by  the  prob- 
lems of  political  life  which  sprang  from  the  transformation 
of  society  and  State,  and  which  were  grasped  and  attacked 
with  passionate  devotion.  Every  one  was  interested  in  the 
results  of  the  discussion,  and  the  conflict  of  opinions  and 
sentiments  took  as  lively  a  course  as  the  struggle  of  interests 
itself.  And  the  science  of  politics,  like  that  of  its  formal 
handmaiden,  rhetoric,  quickened  the  intellectual  movement 
on  several  sides  at  once.  The  question  of  right  and  wrong 
in  certain  particular  circumstances  led  by  a  very  slight  tran- 
sition to  the  second  and  wider  question  of  political  justice  in 
general.  Nor  did  the  awakened  curiosity  pause  at  the  con- 
fines of  politics.  It  was  inevitable  that  it  should  extend  its 
barriers  to  embrace  all  spheres  of  human  activity  and 
business.  In  other  words,  the  study  of  politics  led  to  the 
study  of  economics,  of  education,  of  the  arts,  and  especially 
of  ethics.  Moreover,  when  the  inquiry  had  been  widened  to 
include  the  rules  of  human  action,  it  gave  rise  to  a  further 
investigation  into  the  sources  of  those  rules  and  into  the 
origin  of  State  and  of  society.  To  complete  our  picture  of 
the  factors  at  work  in  that  age  we  must  recollect  its  intel- 
lectual conditions.  The  critical  spirit,  with  its  hostile  attitude 
towards  authority,  was  already  in  full  vigour,  and  the  social 


384  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and  political  life  of  the  fifth  century  must  obviously  have 
reinforced  its  powers.  The  foundation  of  all  criticism  is 
comparative  observation,  and  in  this  respect  the  Greeks 
were  fortunate  in  their  contact  with  foreign  populations, 
though  it  occurred  by  way  of  conflict  during  the  Persian 
wars.  Even  more  significant,  perhaps,  was  the  develop- 
ment of  commercial  and  personal  intercourse  within  the 
pale  of  the  Attic  naval  confederacy.  Considerable  portions 
of  the  wide  and  scattered  dominions  of  Hellas  were  now 
included  in  a  common  league.  A  constant  stream  of 
travellers  was  passing  between  the  capital  and  the  outlying 
members  of  the  confederation,  familiarizing  reciprocally  the 
Greeks  of  Athens  with  those  of  Asia  Minor  and  the 
islands.  The  crowding  of  the  cities — largely  by  immigra- 
tion from  other  parts  of  Greece  and  from  abroad — must 
have  assisted  that  exchange  of  information  and  opinion 
which  has  been  aptly  defined  as  the  friction  of  intellects. 
Finally,  we  must  recollect  the  introduction  of  foreign  cults 
which  ensued  on  the  Persian  wars,  and  which  led  to  a 
notable  growth  of  religious  sects  in  Athens.  Burghers, 
metics,  and  visitors  were  united  on  the  same  spot  ;  the 
autocracy  of  the  established  faith  was  broken  down,  and 
thus,  indirectly  at  least,  a  considerable  step  was  taken 
towards  the  emancipation  of  thought. 

2.  These,  then,  so  far  as  we  can  judge,  were  the  con- 
ditions and  circumstances  obtaining  in  Greece  at  the  time 
of  her  great  intellectual  progress,  and  of  its  contribution 
to  the  history  of  the  world.  Moral  or  mental  philosophy 
took  its  place  by  the  side  of  the  natural  philosophy  that  had 
preceded  it,  and  its  scope  was  at  once  the  fullest  possible, 
though  its  powers  were  somewhat  limited.  For,  having 
sprung  from  practical  needs,  it  was  unable  to  repudiate  its 
connection  with  the  soil  of  practice.  Hence,  indeed,  were 
derived  its  freshness  and  its  warmth  of  pulsating  life,  but 
hence,  too,  in  many  cases,  its  marked  defect  in  logical 
rigour  and  systematic  completeness.  Moreover,  its  flight 
was  hampered  by  another  restraining  fetter,  which,  con- 
sisting as  it  did  of  the  search  for  artistic  diction,  might 
be   called  a  chain  of  flowers.      Apart,  perhaps,  from    the 


INTELLECTUALISM.  385 

professional  rhetoricians,  there  was  no  expert  public  in  any 
of  these  fields  of  learning.  The  art  of  rhetoric  was  supplied 
with  dry  and  dreary,  but  methodical,  text-books,  but  in 
other  departments  of  knowledge  the  professors  had  to 
appeal  to  the  cultured  classes  in  general,  whose  pampered 
taste  had  to  be  tempted  by  all  kinds  of  artifices  of  style. 
It  is  only  on  the  heights  of  learning  that  a  permanent  union 
can  be  effected  between  beauty  and  truth.  In  laying  the 
foundations  of  a  science,  and  particularly  of  a  science  the 
fundamental  conceptions  of  which  require  above  all  a 
clearness  of  outline  and  a  sharpness  of  demarcation,  the 
popularizing  method  is  almost  incompatible  with  success. 
In  the  age  with  which  we  are  dealing,  several  excellent 
men  were  concerned  in  the  attempt  to  overcome  this 
difficulty.  There  was  Prodicus,  whose  reputation  rests  on 
his  studies  in  the  differences  of  synonyms,  and  chief  of  all 
there  was  Socrates,  the  son  of  Sophroniscus,  whose  labours 
were  at  once  the  least  pretentious  and  the  most  fruitful  of 
results.  His  unadorned  dialogues  rose  from  the  homeliest 
to  the  highest  themes.  He  paused  at  every  step  to  inter- 
rupt the  flow  of  thought  in  order  to  test  its  depth  and 
purity.  Each  fresh  conception  had  to  deliver  its  passport 
in  the  course  of  cross-examination  ;  every  slumbering  doubt 
was  awakened  ;  every  hidden  contradiction  was  exposed  ; 
and  thus  a  splendid  contribution  was  made  to  that  sifting 
and  purifying  of  fundamental  ideas  of  which  this  early  age 
stood  in  the  greatest  need. 

In  a  later  volume  of  the  present  work  we  shall  be 
occupied  with  the  name  of  Socrates,  but  here  we  may 
remark  that  if  he  surpassed  the  majority  of  his  contem- 
poraries at  this  p(jint,  he  was  fully  in  agreement  with  them 
at  another.  We  refer  to  that  heightened  respect  for  reason 
and  reflection  as  the  supreme  arbiters  of  human  affairs 
which  may  perhaps  Vje  termed  Intellectualism.  This  intel- 
lectualism  was  by  far  the  most  characteristic  feature  of  tlie 
age.  On  the  soil  of  Italy  and  Sicily,  in  particular,  the  new 
confidence  which  was  produced  by  the  reign  (jf  criticism  and 
by  the  revolt  from  authcjrity,  went  hand-in-hand  with  the 
growth  of  refinement  of  thought.  Our  readers  will  recollect 
VOL.  r.  2  c 


386  GREEK    THINKERS. 

the  subtle  and  pointed  arguments  of  Zeno  of  Elea,  and. 
about  fifty  years  earlier,  Charondas,  the  legislator  at  Catania, 
had  filled  his  office  in  a  manner  which  won  from  Aristotle 
the  praise  that  "  by  his  sharpness  and  subtlety  he  has 
surpassed  even  the  lawgivers  of  to-day."  One  example  may 
stand  as  a  type.  The  law  of  Charondas  relating  to  the 
guardianship  of  orphans  distributed  their  care  between  the 
relatives  on  the  father's  and  on  the  mother's  side,  giving 
the  first-named  the  charge  of  their  fortune,  and  the  second 
the  charge  of  their  person.  Thus  the  administration  of 
their  fortune  was  committed  to  the  hands  of  their  presump- 
tive heirs,  who  would  have  the  greatest  interest  in  increas- 
ing it,  and  the  life  and  health  of  the  orphans  were  entrusted 
to  those  of  their  relatives  who  would  have  no  sinister 
motive  to  injure  them.  Meantime  the  conscious  art  of 
life,  which  aimed  at  reducing  practice  to  fixed  and  reason- 
able laws,  had  made  uninterrupted  progress.  The  time  had 
come  when  undisciplined  empiricism  had  more  and  more 
to  give  way  to  the  conscious  rule  of  art.  There  was  hardly 
any  department  of  life  which  remained  unaffected  by  that 
tendency.  What  was  not  reformed  was  codified,  and  both 
processes  went  almost  hand-in-hand.  Professional  author- 
ship took  its  rise  on  all  sides ;  a  profusion  of  text-books  was 
poured  forth  ;  all  the  business  of  mankind,  from  cooking  a 
dinner  to  painting  a  picture,  from  going  a  walk  to  waging  a 
war,  was  guided  by  rules  and,  where  possible,  reduced  to 
principles.  A  few  examples  will  help  to  make  this  clearer. 
Mithaecus  discussed  the  art  of  cooking  ;  Democritus  the 
philosopher  wrote  on  tactics  and  warfare  ;  Herodicus  of 
Selymbria  made  a  systematic  study  of  diet  as  a  branch  of 
science  separate  from  medicine  ;  and  even  the  treatment 
of  horses  was  professionally  described  by  Simo.  All  depart- 
ments of  the  fine  arts  were  theoretically  elaborated.  Lasus 
of  Hermione,  who,  as  early  as  the  sixth  century  B.C.,  had 
added  to  the  means  of  musical  expression  and  supplied 
them  with  a  basis  of  theory,  now  found  several  followers, 
among  whom  may  be  mentioned  Damon,  a  personal  friend 
of  Pericles,  and  Hippias  of  Elis,  who  lectured  on  rhythm 
and  harmony.     Sophocles,  too,  following  in  the  steps  of  an 


PRIMEVAL    SPECULATION.  387 

Otherwise  unknown  Agatharchus,  did  not  consider  it  beneath 
him  to  write  a  technical  treatise  on  the  stage  ;  and  the 
great  sculptor  Polycletus  reduced  in  his  "  Canon "  the 
proportions  of  human  anatomy  to  numerical  equivalents. 
Democritus  discussed  the  theory  of  painting,  and  both  he 
and  Anaxagoras  were  authors  of  treatises  on  the  perspec- 
tive of  the  stage.  Agriculture,  too,  which  was  first  raised 
to  the  dignity  of  literature  by  Hesiod  in  his  peasants' 
calendar,  the  "  Works  and  Days,"  was  likewise  treated  by 
Democritus  as  a  subject  of  philosophic  discussion.  Nor 
did  the  practitioners  of  prophecy  or  soothsaying  lack  their 
handbooks.  Nothing  was  to  be  left  any  more  to  the 
mercy  of  chance  or  caprice.  Urban  architecture  was  re- 
formed by  Hippodamus  of  Miletus,  a  man  of  marked 
originality,  who  displayed  his  love  of  innovation  even  in 
his  clothing  and  headdress,  and  we  may  perhaps  regard 
the  rectilineal  and  rectangular  system  of  streets  which 
Hippodamus  introduced  as  a  symbol  of  the  increasing 
demand  for  the  universal  rule  of  reason. 

3.  An  age  of  eager  and  restless  innovation  will  spon- 
taneously ask  itself  whence  are  derived  right,  law,  and 
custom.  What  is  the  source  of  their  sanction,  and  what 
are  the  supreme  standards  by  which  to  direct  the  uni- 
versal endeavours  at  reform  .-'  Now,  every  such  inquiry 
beginning  with  "  whence  .'' "  must  go  back  to  the  origin  of 
mankind.  Mythology  and  didactic  poetry  had  long  ago 
painted  in  brilliant  hues  the  raptures  of  a  golden  age. 
Hesiod  is  our  earliest  authority  for  this  tendency  of 
sentiment  and  thought  to  throw  a  halo  on  the  distant  past. 
It  was  a  tendency  which  expressed  the  bias  to  gloom 
and  pessimism  by  which  he  and  his  readers  were 
affected.  For  the  genius  of  the  Greeks,  like  that  of  other 
peoples,  escaped  to  the  Elysian  fields  of  past  or  future- 
bliss  in  reaction  from  the  stress  and  sorrow  of  their  every- 
day life.*  But  in  a  critical  epoch  triumphing  in  its  own 
culture  and  looking  forward  to  further  progress  in  that 
unlimited  sphere,  the  picture  of  the  primordial  past  takes 
a  different  complexion.  An  era  which  believes  itself 
*  Bk.  I.  Ch.  II.  S  I. 


S^8  GREEK    THINKERS. 

superior  to  its  ancestry,  which  views  its  own  enlightenment 
not  without  pride,  perhaps  not  without  arrogance,  is  unlikely 
to  seek  its  ideals  in  the  dim  spaces  of  past  or  future  time, 
looking  forward  to  the  one  with  admiration,  or  back  to  the 
other  with  repining.  This  tendency  of  sentiment  was 
accompanied  by  some  facts  of  correct  perception.  It  be- 
came a  common  conviction,  we  might  almost  say  a  self- 
evident  commonplace,  that  the  prehistoric  ages  were 
barbaric.  The  progress  of  humankind  through  the  rising 
stages  of  civilization  was  a  slow  and  gradual  ascent  from 
the  depths  of  animal  savagery.  "  Slow  and  gradual "  by 
the  evidence  of  scientific  thought  which  had  abandoned  its 
belief  in  supernatural  and  miraculous  intervention,  and 
which,  in  the  sphere  of  natural  research,  had  obtained  an 
insight  into  the  method  by  which  the  minutest  processes 
were  gradually  consummated  to  great  results.  We  recollect 
in  this  connection  the  rudiments  of  the  theory  of  descent 
which  we  found  in  Anaximander,*  and  the  anticatastrophic 
geology  of  Xenophanes,t  with  his  complementary  view  of 
the  anticatastrophic  course  of  civilization.  We  recollect, 
too,  the  medical  writer  %  who  distinguished  the  men  of  his 
day  from  their  less  civilized  ancestors  and  from  the  animal 
world  in  the  matter  of  the  culinary  art. 

The  age  of  the  Troglodytes  was  no  more.  They,  with 
their  ignorance  of  the  plough  and  of  iron  instruments  of 
all  kinds,  with  their  deeds  of  violence  that  did  not  shrink 
from  cannibalism,  had  made  way  for  civilized  men  who 
sowed  the  field  and  planted  the  vineyard,  built  their  home- 
steads, fortified  their  cities,  and  finally  had  learnt  to  pay 
funeral  honours  to  the  dead.  Thus  Moschion,  the  tragic 
poet,  who  properly  belongs  to  the  fourth  rather  than  the 
fifth  century  B.C.,  described  the  origin  of  civilization, 
leaving  it  doubtful,  however,  whether  we  owed  it  to  the 
philanthropy  of  the  Titan  Prometheus,  or  to  the  force  of 
necessity,  or  to  "  long  practice  "  and  gradual  habituation 
in  which  "  Nature  played  the  part  of  schoolmistress."  Nor 
had  the  leading  men  of  the  fifth  century  been  free  from 

*  Bk.  I.  Ch.  I.  §  2.  t  Bk.  II.  Ch.  I.  §  3. 

%  Bk.  III.  Ch.  I.  §  5. 


ORGANIC  AND  MECHANICAL    VIEWS.  389 

similar  reflections.  Take,  for  instance,  the  opening  verses 
of  the  tragedy  "  Sisyphus "  by  the  Athenian  statesman 
Critias,  or  take  the  title  of  a  lost  book  by  Protagoras  of 
Abdera  "On  the  Aboriginal  State  of  Mankind,"  to  which 
Moschion  was  presumably  referring  in  the  first  words  of 
the  fragment  we  have  mentioned,  "  Let  man's  first  form 
be  to  your  eyes  revealed."  The  dominant  conception  of 
progress  in  that  fragment  of  Moschion  may  be  defined  as 
organic,  for  though,  as  we  have  seen,  it  touched  incident- 
ally on  the  legend  of  Prometheus,  yet  the  weight  of  its 
attention  was  given  to  the  effects  brought  about  by  Nature, 
by  Necessity,  by  Habit,  and  above  all  by  "  Time,  that 
produceth  all  things  and  nourisheth  all  things."  The  idea 
of  development  was  supreme  ;  its  fruit  was  the  order  of 
society.  Similarly,  in  the  work  of  Critias,  "  the  starry 
radiance  of  heaven  "  was  spoken  of  as  the  "  handiwork  of 
the  wise  artist.  Time."  Now,  Protagoras  had  treated  these 
problems  from  a  slightly  different  point  of  view.  We 
might  fairly  speak  of  a  mechanical — or,  in  the  sense  we 
have  explained,  of  an  intellectualistic — view  of  progress, 
as  distinct  from  the  organic.  Design,  Deliberation,  and 
Invention  fill  the  room  of  Nature,  Habit,  and  uncon- 
scious Instinct.  .So  much  at  least  we  may  infer  with 
approximate  certainty  from  Plato's  reproduction  of  that 
description.  The  account  doubtless  is  partly  a  travesty, 
but  its  exaggeration  of  the  details  to  be  caricatured  makes 
the  features  of  the  original  more  recognizable.  Primeval 
man,  so  wc  read,  could  not  gain  the  victory  in  his  conflict 
with  the  wild  animals,  because  they  did  not  as  yet  possess 
the  "  art  of  government,  of  which  the  art  of  war  is  a 
part."  Again,  their  want  of  the  art  of  government  per- 
mitted them  to  injure  one  another.  The  theft  of  fire, 
which  the  legend  ascribed  to  Prometheus,  was  here  explained 
as  the  theft  of  the  wisdom  of  art  from  the  chamber 
where  Athene  and  Hephiestus  presided  over  it.  The  fact 
that  he  stole  the  fire  as  well  and  gave  it  to  mankind  was 
merely  because  the  "  wisdom  of  art  "  would  have  availed 
them  very  little  without  that  aid.  P'urther,  when  Zeus 
sent  "Justice"  and  "Reverence"  on   earth,  Hermes,  who 


390  GREEK    THINKERS. 

was  charged  to  distribute  the  boon,  asked  if  the  precious 
gift  should  be  distributed  to  all  men  equally,  or  should 
be  given  in  the  proportion  of  the  arts,  with  many  lay- 
men, that  is  to  say,  to  one  master  or  expert.  By  "  art," 
too,  men  began  to  articulate  their  sounds  and  to  invent 
language.  By  "art,"  "wisdom,"  or  "virtue" — the  words 
are  deliberately  used  as  equivalents,  and  are  frequently 
put  one  for  the  other — they  built  houses,  governed  the 
State,  and  fulfilled  the  moral  law.  Art  and  its  masters, 
in  the  sense  that  we  should  rather  speak  to-day  of 
handicraft  and  artisans,  formed  a  permanent  contrast 
with  nature  and  chance.  Through  all  the  Platonic 
caricature  there  shines  that  conception  of  life  which  our 
study  of  the  conditions  of  this  age  has  fully  prepared  us  to 
encounter.  We  think  we  discern  a  pedantic  note  in  these 
utterances,  a  hint  of  the  schoolmaster's  exaggerated  rever- 
ence for  what  is  founded  on  reflection,  reduced  to  rule, 
and  teachable  by  precept.  Such  a  view  of  life  was 
eminently  suited  to  the  childhood  of  the  mental  and  moral 
sciences,  and  in  no  instance  out  of  many,  as  we  shall  have 
occasion  to  remark,  was  it  more  strongly  or  more  clearly 
developed  than  in  the  person  of  Socrates. 

4.  We  need  hardly  say  that  this  projection  into  the 
misty  past  of  the  achievements  of  an  age  of  ripe  reason 
is  an  unhistorical  method.  The  genius  and  inventiveness 
of  individual  minds  were  of  course  at  all  times  indispens- 
able. Many  of  the  greatest  works  of  progress  in  which 
adult  humanity  acquiesces  as  self-evident  were  doubtless 
wrought  by  anonymous  heroes  of  civilization,  and  we 
gladly  join  in  the  eulogistic  paean  which  George  Forster 
raises  in  honour  of  the  great  Unknown  who  first  subdued 
the  horse  and  pressed  him  into  the  service  of  mankind. 
But  progress  depends  on  something  more  than  the  work 
of  individual  great  men.  Account  must  also  be  taken  of 
the  slow  and  imperceptible  achievements  of  the  moderately 
gifted  multitude,  climbing,  as  it  were,  the  rungs  of  a  ladder 
provided  by  Nature  herself.  It  would  be  wholly  incorrect, 
and  at  variance  with  historical  facts,  if  the  first  stage  instead 
of  the  last  stage  of  evolution  were  taken  as  marking  the 


DOCTRINE    OF   THE  SOCIAL    CONTRACT.       39 1 

possession  of  a  system  or  network  of  rules,  which  is  what  we 
mean  by  a  practical  art,  and  it  is  precisely  this  mistake  in 
historical  perspective  which  commonly  characterizes  the 
great  epochs  of  intellectual  emancipation.  Unwittingly 
they  shape  the  past  according  to  their  own  image,  and 
they  are  fain  to  adorn  the  childhood  of  the  race  with  the 
features  of  precocious  wisdom.  Thus  in  such  epochs  we 
frequently  meet  the  doctrine  of  the  Social  Contract.  Minds 
that  have  repudiated  the  yoke  of  tradition,  that  have 
virtually  outgrown  the  discipline  of  supernatural  authority, 
and  that  perceive  in  the  institutions  of  State  and  society 
nothing  but  means  to  human  ends,  are  far  too  prone  to 
ignore  the  different  ages  of  mankind,  and  to  ascribe  to 
their  remotest  ancestors  modes  of  thought  and  action 
corresponding  exactly  to  their  own.  The  fact  is  that  the 
individual  as  such  was  originally  of  no  account  whatever. 
He  was  merely  a  member  of  his  family,  his  tribe,  or  his 
clan.  His  adherence  to  the  group  of  which  he  formed  a 
part  was  conditioned  by  his  birth,  or  imposed  on  him  by 
force  ;  his  obedience  was  given  blindly,  and  no  play  at  all 
was  permitted  to  his  powers  of  free-will  or  self-determina- 
tion. These  were  the  facts,  which  the  apostles  of  enlighten- 
ment promptly  proceeded  to  neglect,  and  to  distort  into  an 
opposite  significance.  Moreover,  that  natural  tendency  was 
often  considerably  strengthened  by  the  demands  of  practical 
politics.  We  begin  to  doubt  the  evidence  of  our  own 
eyes  when  we  see  what  views  were  expressed  by  John 
Locke  *  in  his  two  treatises  "  On  Civil  Government." 
This  acute  and  profound  thinker  maintained  in  all  serious- 
ness that  the  political  community  rested  in  all  instances 
on  voluntary  combination  and  on  the  free  choice  of  the 
rulers  and  of  the  forms  of  government ;  and  we  watch  with 
astonishment  his  eager  but  idle  efforts  to  press  the  facts 
of  history  and  cthnol(jgy  into  the  service  of  this  fallacious 
theory.  Our  astonishment  abates,  however,  on  homcjco- 
pathic  principles,  when  we  glance  at  Locke's  opponents, 
the  theoretical  defenders  of  absolutism.  Those  champions 
of   the  divine   right  of   kings  contended  that  the   Creator 

*    A.   I).    1632-1704. 


392  GREEK    THINKERS. 

had  endowed  Adam  with  the  plenitude  of  governing  powers, 
and  that  from  Adam  they  had  descended  on  all  the 
monarchs  of  the  earth.  And  the  question  was  discussed 
throughout  as  if  there  were  no  alternative  offered  to  con- 
temporary thought  except  between  these  two  doctrines 
thus  at  variance  with  history  and  reason.  It  is  true  that 
gleams  of  correct  judgment  flashed  across  the  mind  of 
Locke.  He  was  aware  that  "  an  argument  from  what 
has  been  to  what  should  of  right  be,  has  no  great  force." 
But  the  light  of  this  perception  did  not  prevent  him 
from  considering  the  cause  of  political  freedom  through 
hundreds  of  pages,  as  if  it  were  bound  to  stand  or  fall 
with  the  triumph  or  defeat  of  his  pseudo-historical  theory. 
Reverting  from  Locke  to  the  dawn  of  modern  philosophy 
at  the  opening  of  the  fourteenth  century,  and  passing 
over  the  many  intermediate  links  in  that  great  chain  of 
development,  we  are  met  by  similar  tendencies  of  thought. 
Marsilius  of  Padua,  for  example,  the  older  contempo- 
rary of  Petrarch,  and  the  friend  of  William  of  Occam,  the 
bold  Minorite  friar,  was  the  author  of  a  treatise,  "The 
Defender  of  Peace,"  inscribed  to  Lewis  of  Bavaria,  in  which 
he  asserted  the  doctrine  of  the  Social  Contract.  He  too, 
as  we  find,  was  filled  with  the  belief  that  the  war  against 
priestly  pretensions  could  only  hope  to  end  in  the  com- 
plete triumph  of  monarchical  rule  limited  only  by  semi-con- 
stitutional or  democratic  checks,  if  it  were  waged  under  the 
standard  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people  and  of  this  pseudo- 
historical  fact  on  which  it  rested.  In  the  earlier  Middle  Ages 
similar  effects  had  been  produced  by  a  precisely  contrary 
tendency.  The  wish  to  exalt  ecclesiastical  authority  at  the 
expense  of  the  secular  power  had  fostered  the  spread  of  the 
opinion  that  the  State  had  sprung  from  the  anarchy  which 
ensued  on  the  fall  of  man  ;  that  it  was  not  created  by  divine 
dispensation,  but  owed  its  origin  to  the  disasters  of  man- 
kind and  to  the  Social  Contract  erected  as  a  barrier  against 
them. 

If  some  one  were  to  forbid  us  to  walk  upright  unless 
we  could  prove  that  we  had  never  crawled  on  all-fours  in 
infancy,  we  should   be  hardly  less    surprised    than  at   the 


ORIGIN  OF  THE    THEORY.  393 

prohibition  imposed  on  modern  men  to  exercise  a  free  choice 
in  pohtical  affairs  unless  their  ancestors  had  exercised  it  in 
remote  antiquity.  We  have  just  now  alluded  to  the  manner 
in  which  this  mode  of  thought,  which  rests  on  a  great  over- 
estimate rather  than  on  any  under-estimate  of  the  value 
of  positive  law,  has  re-arisen  in  more  recent  times,  and 
every  one  is  acquainted  with  the  manner  in  which  it  reached 
its  summit  in  Rousseau,  the  precursor  of  the  French  Rev- 
volution.  Though  this  argument  in  favour  of  the  theory 
of  the  Social  Contract  was  not  known  to  the  ancients,  yet 
the  theory  itself  was  familiar  to  them.  We  have  already 
struck  its  psychological  root.  Reduced  to  its  elements, 
the  theory  can  be  expressed  in  the  form  of  a  question 
and  an  answer,  in  which  the  answer  will  appear  as  wholly 
unprejudiced  and  impartial,  but  imbued  with  an  error 
derived  from  the  total  lack  of  historical  understanding. 
The  question  was,  "  How  did  our  ancestors  happen  to 
resign  their  apparent  individual  self-independence,  and  to 
consent  to  those  limitations  of  it  which  the  State  laid  on 
them  }  "  The  answer  was,  "  They  accepted  this  disadvan- 
tage for  the  sake  of  a  greater  advantage.  They  resigned 
to  a  certain  degree  their  own  liberty  in  order  to  be 
protected  from  the  abuse  of  liberty  by  other  people 
— in  order  to  protect  life  and  property,  their  own  as 
well  as  that  of  their  dependents,  from  outside  violence." 
In  the  light  of  common  sense,  this  will  be  seen  to  be 
nothing  but  a  special  instance  of  a  far-reaching  tendency 
to  error.  Anything  that  fulfils  a  purpose  may  readily  be 
regarded,  by  virtue  of  a  false  generalization,  as  necessarily 
owing  its  existence  to  a  deliberate  dispensation  expressly 
directed  to  that  end.  Plato  was  acquainted  with  that 
doctrine,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  book  of  the 
"  Republic  "  he  put  it  in  the  mouth  of  Glaucon,  in  the  words  : 

"  And  when  men  have  done  and  suffered  [injustiee]  and  had 
experience  of  hotli,  not  lieinj;  ahle  to  avoid  the  one  and  ohtain 
the-  other,  they  think  that  they  had  better  agree  witli  one  another 
t(^  have  neither." 

Here,    then,   was   the   beginning   of   laws   and   covenants  ; 


394  GREEK   THINKERS. 

hence  the  ordinances  of  the  law  were  entitled  right  and 
just,  and  this  was  the  nature  and  the  origin  of  justice. 
Epicurus  adopted  that  theory  ;  and  his  heavy  debt  to 
Democritus  suggests  that  in  this  instance  too  he  was 
following  in  the  steps  of  his  great  predecessor — a  con- 
jecture, however,  which  cannot  yet  be  asserted  with  more 
than  a  moderate  degree  of  probability. 

5.  The  probability  is  supported  by  the  fact  that  in  an 
allied  sphere  of  learning  the  mind  of  Democritus  took  a 
similar  bent.  In  the  question  of  the  origin  of  language, 
antiquity  was  divided  into  two  hostile  camps.  Their 
conflict  of  opinions  was  a  striking  illustration  of  what  John 
Stuart  Mill  has  somewhere  called  the  bandying  of  half- 
truths.  One  party  asserted  that  language  had  a  natural 
origin,  the  other  party  that  it  was  based  on  convention. 
In  the  theory  of  the  natural  origin  of  language,  two 
different  contentions  were  involved.  First,  that  the 
formation  of  language  does  not  arise  from  deliberate 
design,  but  from  a  spontaneous  impulse  of  instinct  ;  and, 
secondly,  that  the  primordial  natural  connection  between 
sound  and  meaning  may  still  be  recognized  and  proved  in 
existing  forms  of  language — that  is  to  say,  in  the  words 
of  the  Greek  tongue.  Now,  contemporary  philologers  are 
convinced  that  the  first  of  these  contentions  is  true,  but 
the  second  totally  false.  We  know  how  ill  we  succeed  in 
obtaining  absolute  certainty  as  to  genuine  original  types  of 
speech.  Comparative  analysis  has  disclosed  many  roots  of 
the  aboriginal  Indo-Germanic  language,  but  even  there  we 
are  scarcely  ever  certain  of  standing  in  the  presence  of 
words  without  a  past, — of  true  examples  of  the  primordial 
impulse  to  language,  free  from  all  previous  history.  And 
yet  we  are  far  better  equipped  for  that  purpose  than  were 
the  ancient  Greek  grammarians  who  hardly  ever  knew  any 
other  language  than  their  own,  and  who  lacked  the  means 
for  all  deeper  analysis  equally  with  the  means  for  com- 
parison. Philosophers  approached  the  problem  of  the  origin 
of  language,  which  has  never  yet  been  completely  solved, 
with  the  same  helplessness  and  the  same  confidence  with 
which  they  attacked  the  problem  of  the  origin  of  organic 


WORDS   AND   IDEAS.  395 

life.  In  both  instances  alike  they  succumbed  to  the 
temptation  of  mistaking  the  highly  complicated  as  simple, 
and  the  last  link  in  a  long  chain  of  development  as  ab- 
original. The  result  was  obviously  an  etymological 
scrimmage.  An  overwhelming  subjective  factor  of  error 
in  the  habitual  mental  association  between  the  word  and 
its  meaning  contributed  to  the  breakdown  in  consequence 
of  the  difficulties  of  the  facts.  We  are  reminded  of  the 
Frenchman  who  maintained  that  his  mother-tongue  was 
constructed  more  naturally  than  English,  because  in  Eng- 
lish pai7i  is  called  "  bread,"  whereas  in  French  it  is  called 
pain  and  it  is  pain.  And  even  when  attempts  were  made  to 
treat  the  subject  more  rationally,  to  analyze  the  words  and 
compare  them  with  the  impressions  they  produced,  fresh 
delusions  defeated  the  experiment,  which  failed  to  attain  a 
single  tenable  result.  Even  in  cases  where  the  endeavours 
of  the  etymologists  possessed  a  certain  plausibility,  their 
speculations,  which  Plato  ridiculed  in  his  dialogue  "  Craty- 
lus,"  suffered  the  same  fate  as  the  lay  philologers  of  our  day 
who  affect  to  perceive  in  the  verb  "  to  roll "  a  consonance 
with  the  sound  of  rolling  thunder  or  of  rolling  wheels.  They 
do  not  know  that  the  word  is  derived  from  the  Low  Latin 
rotula,  a  diminutive  of  7-ota  ("  a  wheel "),  and  that  rota,  like 
the  German  Rad,  springs  from  the  same  root  as  rash*  so 
that  the  consonance  is  completely  accidental.  Hcraclitus 
was  the  first  to  maintain  this  doctrine  with  its  curious 
mixture  of  falsehood  and  truth.  Or,  rather,  it  is  probably 
more  correct  to  say  that  he  tacitly  assumed  the  theory 
than  that  he  expressly  promulgated  and  supported  it. 
Undoubtedly  he  discerned  in  the  consonance  of  words  a 
reference  to  the  affinities  of  the  ideas  to  which  they  corre- 
sponded, as  indeed  may  be  gathered  from  some  of  his  un- 
translatable sentences.!  .Similarly,  he  was  evidently  pleased 
at  finding  his  doctrine  of  the  coexistence  of  contraries 
foreshadowed  in  the  Greek  language,  in  the  sense  that  one 
and  the  same  word  (/-Jtoc  and  /^to'c)  meant  at  one  time 
"  life  "  and  at  another  time  an  instrument  of  death,  namely, 

*  N.B. — The  Ocrman  r(ur//- "  swift." 
t  Bk.  I.  Ch  I.  §  5. 


396  GREEK   THINKERS. 

"  the  bow."  It  is  at  least  questionable,  however,  if  Hera- 
clitus  discussed  the  origin  of  linguistic  formations  and 
expressed  his  views  on  that  subject.  But,  considering 
that  he  regarded  all  human  activity  as  the  image  and 
emanation  of  the  divine,  he  must  have  been  very  far  from 
believing  that  the  vocal  incorporation  of  the  processes  of 
the  mind  was  something  merely  artificial,  and  he  would 
probably  have  rejected  the  assumption,  even  if,  as  is 
hardly  credible,  it  had  found  a  champion  among  his  own 
contemporaries. 

The  name  of  Democritus  is  mentioned  as  the  author, 
or  at  least  as  the  earliest  champion,  of  this  counter-theory. 
At  the  same  time  we  are  made  acquainted  with  the  out- 
line of  the  arguments  which  he  marshalled  against  the 
doctrine  of  the  natural  origin  of  language.  The  sage  of 
Abdera  referred  to  the  plurality  of  meanings  borne  by 
certain  words  (homonymy),  and  to  the  plurality  of  words 
used  to  designate  certain  objects  (polyonymy).  Further,  he 
was  struck  by  the  occasional  phenomenon  of  a  change  of 
appellations,  and  lastly  by  the  "anonymity"  of  certain  objects 
or  ideas.  The  point  of  the  first  two  of  these  arguments  is 
quite  clear.  If,  as  had  been  assumed,  it  were  true  that  an 
inner  and  necessary  relation  exists  between  an  object  and 
its  name,  cases  could  not  arise  as  in  the  instances  of  "  bill," 
or  "gin,"  or  "seal,"  in  which  the  same  complex  of  sounds 
denotes  objects  of  different  kinds.  Similarly,  the  assump- 
tion was  incompatible  with  the  fact  that  one  object  could 
be  called  by  more  than  one  name.  Thus  the  same  locality 
is  now  a  "  room,"  now  a  "  chamber  ; "  the  same  piece  of  fur- 
niture is  now  a  "  chair,"  and  now  a  "  seat ;  "  the  same  animal 
now  a  "  dog,"  now  a  "  hound."  The  third  argument  is 
little  more  than  a  variant  of  the  first.  For  it  makes  but 
little  difference  whether  an  object  is  called  by  several 
names  simultaneously,  or  whether  these  appellations  are 
given  to  it  in  temporal  succession.  Thus  "  placket "  was 
the  seventeenth-century  word  for  the  petticoat  of  to-day, 
and  we  speak  of  "  sherry "  to-day  in  the  place  of  Fal- 
staff's  "sack."  The  fourth  and  last  argument,  however, 
seems  to   transgress  these  bounds  of  reasoning,  for  it  is 


DEMOCRITUS   AS   PHILOLOGER.  397 

hardly  a  proof  against  the  existence  of  an  inner  connection 
between  the  names  of  things  and  the  things  named  that 
certain  objects  or  ideas  are  without  appellations.  Here, 
we  fancy,  Democritus  must  have  been  trying  to  express 
something  of  a  different  and  more  comprehensive  kind.  He 
would  appear  to  have  argued  to  this  effect :  If  language 
were  a  divine  gift  or  a  product  of  nature,  we  should  recog- 
nize in  its  manifestations  a  higher  degree  of  adaptation 
than  is  actually  apparent.  But  the  alternating  picture  of 
excess  and  defect,  of  change  and  inconstancy,  and  finally 
of  a  total  lack  of  the  requisite  means  to  an  end,  though 
familiar  enough  in  the  imperfect  types  of  human  inven- 
tion, should  not  appertain  to  creations  which  we  ascribe 
to  the  government  of  nature  or  to  the  control  of  divine 
agencies.  And,  rendering  this  reflection  of  Democritus 
into  the  language  of  modern  thought,  we  may  interpret 
him  as  follows :  Language  is  not  an  organism,  for  ex- 
perience teaches  us  that  organisms  contain  a  far  higher 
degree  of  perfection  than  is  contained  in  language — a  con- 
cession to  experience  with  which  Democritus  may  fairly  be 
credited  despite  his  strong  anti-tclcological  bias. 

The  incisive  criticism  thus  directed  at  the  theory  of  a 
natural  origin  of  language  affected  it  merely  in  its  rudest 
and  most  incomplete  form.  Democritus  succeeded  in 
proving  that  men  have  not  been  constrained  as  if  by  an 
invincible  necessity  to  describe  objects  by  the  names  apper- 
taining to  them  and  by  no  other  names.  But  this  result 
might  have  been  reached  by  a  mere  reference  to  the  fact 
that  there  exist  more  languages  than  one.  Democritus,  it 
must  be  added,  was  as  guilty  as  any  of  his  opponents  of 
the  fundamental  crime  of  that  theory.  He  too  confused 
what  is  original  with  what  is  the  result  of  development,  and 
he  too  neglected  all  the  facts  pointing  to  what  we  call  the 
growth  and  evolution  of  language.  In  order  to  evade  tiie 
difficulties  which  threatened  the  theory  of  his  adversaries, 
he  was  compelled  to  adopt  an  hypothesis  which  brought 
no  less  serious  difficulties  in  its  train.  Language,  according 
to  this  hypothesis,  was  to  be  entirely  conventional  in  origin  ; 
primeval   men   were  to   have   agreed   together  to  call  the 


398  GREEK   THINKERS. 

objects  by  such-and-such  names  in  order  that  they  might 
keep   as   a   permanent   possession   this   important   aid   to 
instruction  and    communication.     The   objections    to  that 
view  are  obvious.    The  critics  of  antiquity,  led  by  Epicurus, 
were  quick  to  ask  the  awkward  question,  How  could  such 
agreement  have  been  reached  in  an  age  when  language 
itself,  the  most  important  means  of  communication,  did  not 
yet  exist .-'    Thus  the  Epicurean  author  of  a  book  written  on 
stone  which  has  only  lately  been  discovered,  asked  if  the 
"name-giver"  was  to  be  represented  as  a  kind  of  school- 
master, who  showed  his  pupils  at  one  time  a  stone  and  at 
another  time  a  flower,  and  insisted  on  their  learning  the 
proper  names.     If  so,  he  wondered,  what  would  bind  them 
to  use  those  names  and  no  others  when  the  schoolmaster's 
eye  was  removed  ;  and  what  would  preserve  those  names 
for  the  information  of  posterity,  or  even  for  the  use  of  remote 
quarters  of  the  country }  or  were  we  to  suppose  that  this 
remarkable  lesson  was  imparted  at  one  time  to  great  masses 
of  men,  and  if  so,  did  it  take  place  by  written  communica- 
tions, which  could  certainly  not  precede  the  invention  of 
language,  or  by  the  concourse  in  one  spot  of  scattered  multi- 
tudes of  men  in  an  age  which  was  deficient  in  all  perfected 
means  of  locomotion  ?     This  was  the  kind  of  ridicule  which 
was  poured  on  the  exposition  of  Democrltus,  and  we  are 
unable  to  say  at  this  date  how  far  he  really  deserved  it. 
It  is  quite  possible  that  he  refrained  from  elaborating  his 
central  thought  in  detail,  and  that  he  was  content  to  set  up 
the  theory  of  convention  as  the  sole  solution  of  the  problem 
adequate  to  replace  the  old  theory  of  nature  which,  as  a 
whole,  he  could  not  but  condemn.     Be  that  as  it  may,  it 
was  left  to  Epicurus  to  dispel  a  portion  of  the  darkness 
which  surrounded  this  theme,  and  by  the  assumption  of  a 
natural  as  well  as  of  a  conventional  element  in  language  to 
untie  the   knot  as  efficiently  as  his  inadequate   resources 
permitted.     At  that  point,  if   not  earlier,  in  the  present 
history,  we  shall  have  to  come  to  closer  contact  with  the 
problem,  and  to  examine  Epicurus's  attempt  at  a  solution, 
correct  in  principle  as  it  was,  in  relation  to  the  subsequent 
teachings  of  comparative  philology. 


NATURE  AND   CONVENTION  IN  LANGUAGE.      399 

A  single  example  will  suffice  to  help  us  to  realize  the 
conceptions  of  the  natural  and  the  conventional  element 
in  speech.    The  original  Indo-European  language  possessed 
a  root  pu,  which  carried  with  it  the  meaning  of  "to  cleanse." 
Presuming,  as  is  extremely  probable,  that  this  is  a  genuine 
original  root  and  not  derivative,  we  may  be  permitted  to 
speculate  on  the  manner  in  which  this  little  syllable  reached 
its  fundamental   significance.     If  we   employ   the    mouth 
itself,  the  organ  of  speech,  to  perform  an  act  of  cleansing, 
this  is  done  by  blowing  away  the  particles  of  dust,  straw, 
etc.,  which  cover  and  pollute  any  superficial  plane.     If  we  do 
this  energetically  by  a  determined  narrowing  of  our  pro- 
truded  lips,  we  produce  sounds  like  /,  //,  or  /;/.     In  this 
way  the  last-named  sound   might  at  least  have  obtained 
its  primitive  significance.     Presuming  our  conjecture  to  be 
correct,  a  definite  position  and   movement  of  the  organs 
of  speech  formed  in  this  instance,  as  doubtless   in  count- 
less others,  the  bond  between   sound    and   meaning.     In 
our  opinion,  too,  this  imitation  of  movements  was  by  far 
the  most  fertile  source  in  the  formation  of  language — far 
more  fertile,  indeed,  than  the  imitation  of  sounds  merely 
at  second  hand  and  not  self-produced,  such  as  the  name 
"cuckoo"  or  the  verb  "to  mew."     Opinions  of  course  may 
differ   on    this    point,    but    both    instances    may    fairly    be 
claimed  as  cases  of  what,  without  any  taint  of  mysticism, 
we  may  call  the  natural  element  in  language.     When  we 
come  to  look  at  the  various  offshoots  of  that  root,  how- 
ever, in  the  separate  Indo-European  languages,  we  are  con- 
fronted at  once  with  the  arbitrary  forces  of  selection  and 
preference — in  other  words,  with  the  element  of  convention. 
For  side  by  side  with  this  one  appellation  of  the  cleansing 
process,  numerous  others  are  found  to  describe  precisely  the 
same  operation,  though  with  diff'erent  shades  of  meaning. 
There  was  nothing  to  compel  the  Roman  to  use  the  adjec- 
tive purus  ("clean"),  which  sprang  from  that  root,  nor  to 
compel  the  Roman  and  Greek  to  employ,  the  substantives 
poena  and  poin^  ("  punishment "),  springing  from  the  same 
root.      We  can  only  say  that  several  uses  of  those  words, 
especially   their   combination   with    expressions    signifying 


400  GREEK    THINKERS. 

soul,  disposition  or  sentiment,  such  as  "  mens  pura,"  "  puretc 
d'ame,"  "purity  of  mind,"  and  so  forth,  corresponded  fairly 
exactly  to  the  fundamental  meaning  of  the  root,  and  formed 
a  kind  of  reflection  of  its  primitive  significance.     Further, 
the  conception  of  punishment  as  a  religious  atonement  or 
purification  would  be  more  appropriately  expressed  by  the 
derivatives  oipu  than  by  descendants  of  other  roots,  such  as 
sweeping,  scouring,  washing,  etc.,  which  import  an  additional 
conception  of  coarse  material  violence  into  their  expression 
of  the  same  operation.    There  was,  of  course,  no  compulsion 
to  use  this  or  that  word  in  any  given  context.     We  can 
only  speak  of  tendencies  which  were  as  liable  to  be  defeated 
by  the  accidents  of  use  and  wont  as  they  were  likely  to 
profit  by  favourable  circumstances.     As  we  descend  more 
deeply  into  the  history  of  a  language,  to  reach  at  last  the 
new  formations  of  later  epochs  or  of  the  present,  we  per- 
ceive more  and  more  the  importance  of  the  alternating 
fortunes  of  the  long  historical  process,  and  we  watch  the 
gradual  disappearance  of  the  tendency  originally  apper- 
taining to  the  natural  element  as  it  yields  to  the  caprice 
of  the  speaker  or  the  writer.     For  a  word  which  popular 
parlance  or  authors  of  decisive  authority  have  used  for  a 
definite  conception  becomes  dedicated,  as  it  were,  to  that 
purpose.     Thus  words  become  more  and  more  mere  signs 
of  conventional  agreement,  mere  coins  that  have  passed 
from  hand  to  hand  till  their  original  impress  can  only  be 
read  or  renewed  by  the  inventive  genius  of  the  artist  of 
speech,  and,  above  all,  of  the  poet.     In  other  instances  a 
breath  of  their  vanished  perfume  still  haunts  these  withered 
flowers  of  thought,  and  teaches  even  the  coarser  senses  of  the 
multitude  how  to  use  them  aright.     And  now  to  revert  to 
p7i  and  its  ofi"spring.     If  one  of  the  new  forms  of  dentifrice 
was  advertised  as  "  Puritas,"  this  was  solely  due  to  the  prefer- 
ence of  one  man,  its  inventor  ;  but  even  in  the  French  word 
peine,  and  transcendently  in  a  peine,  meaning  "scarcely,"  in 
the  German  Pein,  or  the  English /«/;/,  there  is  no  trace  what- 
soever of  their  original  meaning.     The  Puritans  received 
their  party-name  on  account  of  their  endeavour  to  restore 
the  ecclesiastical  institutions  in  their  original  shape,  free  (or 


"/  POOH-POOH    THE   PURITY:'  40I 

pure)  from  later  accretions.  But  the  shade  of  meaning  in 
the  root  of  the  word  had  hardly  any  marked  effect  on  the 
choice  of  the  name,  though  it  may  indeed  have  operated 
tacitly  and  unconsciously  in  the  fact  that  the  appellation 
was  presently  transferred  to  the  ethical  sphere,  in  which  the 
term  "  moral  Puritanism  "  became  a  familiar  phrase. 

The  same  example  will  serve  to  show  that  the  argument 
derived  by  Democritus  from  homonymy  admits  of  refuta- 
tion even  in  such  cases  as  exhibit  the  vocal  identity  of 
original,  not  of  derivative  forms. of  speech.  If  we  blow 
something  away,  we  are  not  always  moved  by  the  inten- 
tion of  cleansing  the  object  ;  we  may  also  do  it  from  a 
desire,  or,  if  instinctively,  with  the  effect,  of  removing  from 
ourselves  something  ugly  or  repugnant.  In  this  way, 
as  Darwin  tells  us,  numerous  nations  of  the  earth  use  this 
gesture  to  express  repugnance  and  contempt,  and  the 
spoken  equivalent  of  the  gesture,  such  as  the  German 
pfni,  or  the  English  pooh,  which  is  likewise  used  by  the 
Australian  aborigines,  serves  to  express  those  emotions. 
Similarly,  Greek  and  Latin  words  denoting  foul  smells  and 
the  like,  were  derived  from  the  same  root,  as  we  may 
still  see  in  suppuration,  putrescence,  pycmy.  The  course  of 
language-formation  flows  nowadays  with  but  a  sluggish 
stream,  but  it  never  entirely  runs  dry,  and  English  in  recent 
times  has  come  to  employ  the  exclamation  we  are  speaking 
of  as  a  verb,  so  that  an  Englishman,  wishing  to  cast  doubts 
on  the  honesty  of  another  man's  purpose  in  an  emphatic 
form,  may  combine  both  fundamental  meanings  of  that 
phonetic  gesture  in  the  sentence,  "  I  pooh-pooh  the  purity 
of  your  intentions." 

6.  The  fascination  of  this  great  controversy  over  the 
origin  of  language  is  second  in  importance,  however,  to  the 
contrast  it  involves  between  nature  on  the  one  part  and 
convention  on  the  other.  We  are  already  familiar  with 
the  distinction.  We  met  it  in  the  theory  of  sense-percep- 
tion formulated  by  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  in  wliich 
we  learned  to  recognize  convention  as  the  type  of  change, 
subjectivenes.s,  and  relativity,  in  opposition  to  the  cliange- 
less  constancy  of  the  objective  world.  But  the  true  home 
VOL.    I.  2D 


402  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  this  contrast  was  not  the  sphere  of  sense-perception,  nor 
was  it  the  domain  of  language  ;  it  was  rather  to  be  found 
in  political  and  social  phenomena.  Archelaus,  the  pupil  of 
Anaxagoras,  is  mentioned  as  the  first  representative  in 
literature  of  this  fundamental  antithesis,  but  little  more 
than  this  fact  is  known  to  us.  His  works  have  been  lost, 
and  we  can  only  say  with  certainty  that  he  discussed 
"Beauty,  Justice,  and  the  Laws"  in  the  sense  of  that 
distinction,  that  he  considered  in  this  connection  the 
"  severance  "  of  mankind  from  the  rest  of  animal  life,  and 
that  he  treated  of  the  rudiments  of  the  social  state.  The 
antithesis  between  law  and  nature  was  foreign  to  all  epochs 
in  which  the  spirit  of  criticism  was  still  in  a  rudimentary 
stage.  Wherever  authority  and  tradition  reigned  in  undis- 
puted supremacy,  the  extant  rules  of  life  were  accepted  as 
the  only  natural  laws,  or,  more  exactly  stated,  their  relation 
to  nature  was  outside  the  region  of  doubt  or  even  of  dis- 
cussion. This  is  the  attitude  of  the  Mohammedan  of 
to-day,  who  walks  among  us  like  a  living  fossil,  clothed  in 
the  impassivity  of  that  early  era  of  thought,  and  invoking 
the  revelation  of  Allah,  as  manifested  in  the  Koran,  as  the 
supreme  authority  beyond  the  reach  of  appeal  in  all  ques- 
tions of  religion,  law,  ethics,  and  politics.  To  revert  to 
the  distinction,  however,  between  nature  and  convention, 
we  see  that  its  recognition  entails  two  great  series  of  con- 
sequences. On  the  one  part,  it  supplies  the  weapons  for 
the  incisive  and  destructive  criticism  of  all  extant  and  valid 
laws  ;  on  the  other  part,  it  provides  a  new  and  paramount 
standard  for  the  reform  which  is  presently  inaugurated  in 
the  most  diverse  fields.  But  the  ambiguity  in  the  word 
"nature,"  which  was  clearly  recognized  in  later  antiquity, 
rendered  that  standard  extremely  vacillating  and  uncertain 
—a  fact  that  seems  to  have  increased  the  readiness  of 
mankind  to  use  it,  inasmuch  as  the  vagueness  of  the 
formula  made  it  easier  for  them  to  include  the  most 
various  aims  and  desires.  Thus  the  poet  Euripides,  when 
he  exclaimed,  "  This  Nature  does,  who  no  convention 
knows,"  was  thinking  of  the  power  of  natural  impulse  which 
laughs   at   law   and    locksmiths  ;    but  when  he  said   of  a 


RELATIVISM  IN  MORALS  AND   POLITICS.      403 

bastard,  "  His  name's  his  fault,  no  difference  Nature  knows," 
the  dramatist  was  thinking  of  the  actual  individual  nature 
of  men  and  of  its  independence  of  the  artificial  distinctions 
of  society.  In  a  similar,  though  not  in  completely  the 
same  sense,  Alcidamas  the  rhetorician  *  exclaimed  in  his 
"  Messenian  Speech,"  "  the  Deity  made  all  men  free  :  Nature 
has  enslaved  no  man."  The  speaker  was  here  dominated 
by  the  conception  of  an  imaginary  primeval  state  in  which 
universal  equality  was  the  rule  ;  or  else  he  was  thinking 
of  a  natural  law,  founded  on  this  or  on  some  other  basis, 
which  took  precedence  of  all  human  institutions. 

A  distinction  of  this  kind  was  bound  to  serve  as  a  means 
of  criticism  and  negative  attack.  History  and  ethnology  had 
widened  the  study  of  the  moral  and  political  conditions  of 
various  tribes,  nations,  and  epochs,  and  hence  was  derived 
a  keener  perception  of  the  Protean  multiformity  of  human 
customs  and  laws.  People  began  to  busy  themselves  with 
applying  the  comparative  method  to  the  most  glaring  con- 
trasts. A  new  literature  sprang  up  about  this  subject, 
which  reached  its  summit  in  antiquity  in  the  treatise  "  On 
Fate,"  by  Bardesanes,  the  Syrian  Gnostic,!  and  which  reaped 
a  rich  harvest  in  the  age  of  the  Encyclopaedists.  Herodotus 
himself  took  pride  in  parading  antitheses  of  this  kind.  A 
notable  instance  occurs  in  one  of  his  stories  about  Darius. 
He  relates  that  the  monarch  sent  for  the  Greeks  at  his  court 
to  ask  them  their  price  for  devouring  the  corpses  of  their 
ancestors.  They  replied  that  no  price  would  be  high 
enough.  Thereupon  the  Persian  king  summoned  the 
representatives  of  an  Indian  tribe  which  habitually  prac- 
tised the  custom  from  which  the  Greeks  shrank,  and  asked 
them  through  the  interpreter,  in  the  presence  of  the 
Greeks,  at  what  price  they  would  burn  the  corpses  of  their 
ancestors.  The  Indians  cried  aloud  and  besought  the  king 
not  even  to  mention  such  a  horror.  P'rom  these  circum- 
stances the  historian  drew  the  following  notable  moral  for 
human  guidance  :  If  all  existing  customs  could  somewhere 
be  set  before  all  men  in  order  that  they  might  select  the 
most  beautiful  for  themselves,  every  nation  would  choose 
*  Fourth  century  n.c.  :  cp.  Cli.  \11.§4)  ii'Ji'^i-      t  I'Oi'i  ' ''' •  ^looA.D. 


404  GREEK   THINKERS. 

out,  after  the  most  searching  scrutiny,  the  customs  they 
had  already  practised.  And  he  ends  his  tale  by  giving 
Pindar  right  in  his  remark,  "  Convention  is  the  king  of  all 
men."  The  same  thought  is  developed  at  greater  length 
and  with  even  more  point  in  a  treatise  which  may  probably 
also  be  referred  to  this  age.  There  we  find  the  opinion 
expressed  that  "  if  all  men  were  to  gather  in  a  heap  the 
customs  which  they  hold  to  be  good  and  noble,  and  if  they 
were  next  to  select  from  it  the  customs  which  they  hold  to 
be  base  and  vile,  nothing  would  be  left  over,  but  all  would 
be  distributed  among  all."  We  can  hardly  conceive  a  more 
direct  and  definite  expression  of  the  belief  that  no  act  or 
institution  is  so  bad  or  ugly  as  not  to  be  held  in  high 
honour  by  some  portion  of  humanity.  This  relativist  point 
of  view  has  an  enlightening  and  emancipating  eff'ect  on 
which  we  may  pause  for  a  moment.  We  see  it  most  clearly 
in  the  dramas  of  Euripides,  the  great  poet  and  prophet  of 
free  thought.  We  marked  just  now  his  indiff'crence  to  the 
stain  of  illegitimacy,  and  we  would  add  here  that  he  made 
no  more  account  of  the  brand  on  the  forehead  of  the  slave. 
In  his  opinion  it  was  the  convention  and  the  name,  not 
nature,  that  imposed  slavery  : 

"  The  name  alone  is  shameful  to  the  slave  ; 
"In  all  things  else  an  honest  man  enslaved 
Falls  not  below  the  nature  of  the  free." 

He  was  equally  explicit,  too,  on  the  question  of  the  differ- 
ence between  noble  and  humble  birth  : 

"  The  honest  man  is  Nature's  nobleman. 
Who  keeps  not  justice,  though  the  son  of  Zeus, 
Or  sprung  more  highly,  count  I  but  as  mean." 

We  see  that  little  was  wanting  to  break  down  the  barriers 
of  nationality  and  to  make  room  for  the  cosmopolitan  ideal 
which  we  shall  meet  in  full  splendour  in  the  Cynics.  That 
ideal  was  anticipated  by  Hippias  of  Elis,  in  whose  mouth 
Plato  put  the  words — 

"  All  of  you  who  are  here  present  I  reckon  to  be  kinsmen  and 
friends  and  fellow-citizens,  by  nature  and  not  by  law ;    for  by 


DOCTRINE    OF  NATURAL   RIGHT.  405 

nature  like  is  akin  to  like,  whereas  law  is  the  tyrant  of  mankind, 
and  often  compels  us  to  do  many  things  which  are  against  nature." 

7.  While  Nature  meant  here  the  social  instinct,  the  real 
or  probable  original  equality  of  mankind,  it  is  obvious  that 
the  opposite  opinion  would  not  go  begging  for  champions. 
The  victory  of  the  stronger  over  the  weaker  and  the 
superiority  of  talent  to  mediocrity  were  bound  to  attract 
attention  and  to  be  regarded  as  an  emanation  of  Nature, 
especially  in  a  society  founded  on  conquest  and  slavery.  We 
may  recall  the  glorification  of  war  by  Heraclitus  as  "  the 
father  and  king"*  of  all  things,  which  had  differentiated 
free  and  slaves  as  well  as  gods  and  men.  The  sage  of  Ephe- 
sus  was  the  first  to  recognize  and  exalt  the  significance  of 
war  or  the  application  of  force  in  the  foundation  of  State 
and  society.  When  we  come  to  Aristotle  we  shall  meet  a 
kindred  point  of  view,  though  somewhat  less  comprehensive 
and  marred  by  a  national  prejudice.  Aristotle  undertook  to 
discover  a  natural  basis  for  slavery.  He  justified  it  in  the 
interests  of  the  barbaric  slaves  themselves,  who  were  unfit 
for  self-government,  and  he  combated  the  view  that  slavery 
was  merely  the  work  of  arbitrary  convention.  Whether 
or  not  the  literature  of  the  age  of  enlightenment  contributed 
to  this  tendency  is  uncertain,  but  the  probability  is  on  the 
negative  side.  Plato  at  least,  who  rejected  it,  selected  as 
its  champion  among  the  contemporaries  of  Socrates,  not 
an  author  or  a  teacher  of  youth,  but  one  of  their  bitterest 
foes,  a  practical  politician,  who  i)lumcd  himself  on  his 
extreme  practicality,  and  who  is  otherwise  unknown  to  us. 
It  is  in  the  dialogue  called  "  Gorgias  "  that  this  Callicles 
made  a  passionate  plea  for  the  right  of  might.  He  there 
refers  to  the  dominion  which  the  strong  exercises  over  the 
weak  as  a  fact  founded  in  nature,  and  to  be  characterized 
accordingly  as  a  "natural  law."  The  natural  law  changed 
forthwith  on  his  lips  to  a  "natural  right"  or  to  a  dis- 
pensation of  "  natural  justice."  The  bridge  between  the 
recognition  of  a  natural  fact  and  the  approval  of  tlie  con- 
duct corresponding  to  it  was  built  with  considerable  ease, 

*  I5k.  I.  Ch.  I.  §  5  (p.  12). 


406  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and  the  operation  was  assisted  by  the  fact  that  there  was 
one  domain  at  least  in  which  antiquity  could  perceive  hardly 
any  difference  between  the  two.  In  international  relations 
it  was  deemed  at  once  natural  and  right  that  the  strong  states 
should  overthrow  and  absorb  the  weak.  This  explanation, 
however,  is  not  exhaustive  in  the  present  instance.  For, 
though  Callicles  appeals  to  the  right  of  conquest  as  well 
as  to  the  example  of  the  whole  animal  creation,  yet  he 
differs  in  two  essential  points  both  from  Heraclitus  and 
from  Aristotle.  He  aims  at  the  subjection,  not  of  a 
portion,  but  of  the  whole  of  mankind,  and  his  sympathies, 
if  not  exclusively,  are  yet  mainly  on  the  side  of  the  strong 
and  the  clever  rather  than  of  the  weak  and  dull.  He 
takes  the  part  of  the  man  of  genius,  the  "  hero  "  as  we 
should  say  to-day,  against  the  multitude  which  tried  at 
once  to  enslave  his  soul  and  to  reduce  him  to  the  level 
of  their  own  mediocrity.  Callicles  rejoiced  to  think  that 
the  man  of  genius,  like  a  young  half-tamed  lion,  would  rise 
in  the  fulness  of  his  strength — 

"  will  shake  off  and  break  through  and  escape  from  all  this ;  he 
will  trample  under  foot  all  our  formulas  and  spells  and  charms, 
and  all  our  laws  sinning  against  nature  :  the  slave  will  rise  in 
rebellion  and  be  lord  over  us,  and  the  light  of  natural  justice 
will  shine  forth." 

Such  remarks  as  these  express  the  aesthetic  delight  in 
the  untamed  force  of  a  strong  human  nature.  They 
represent,  moreover,  the  feeling  expressed  by  a  modern 
champion  of  absolutism  in  the  words,  "the  rule  of  the 
mightier  is  the  eternal  ordinance  of  God."  A  little  later 
on,  Callicles  in  Plato  is  made  to  defend  a  tenet  which 
was  less  bitterly  at  variance  with  the  spirit  of  popular 
institutions.  The  better  and  more  intelligent  man  in 
his  view  was  to  exercise  supremacy,  and,  as  we  do 
not  live  in  an  ideal  world,  he  was  not  to  be  robbed  of 
the  right  of  personal  profit.  In  other  words,  the  fittest 
and  most  competent  men  were  to  exert  the  strongest 
influence  and  to  draw  the  richest  rewards  in  political 
life.      But  the  character  of  Callicles  underwent  a  strange 


HERO-WORSHIP   AND   ABSOLUTISM.  407 

transformation  in  the  further  course  of  the  dialogue.     The 
champion  of  a  Carlylean  hero-worship,  of  Haller's  political 
theories,  and    of   the    principle  of  uncorrupted   aristocra- 
cies, was  suddenly  turned  to  the  evangelist  of  the  gospel 
of  an    unbridled    lust   for   pleasure.      It  is  clear  that   this 
view  had   not  found   a  spokesman  in    that    age,  from  the 
ingenuous   remark   of  Plato  himself,  "  For  what  you  say 
is  what  the  rest  of  the  world  think,  but  are  unwilling   to 
say."     We  may  confidently  assert   that  the  philosopher- 
poet  combined   this   theory  with   the   others   so  alien   to 
it,  in   order   to    increase    the  odium  which   he   desired  to 
attach  to  them.     But  what  was  undoubtedly  genuine  and 
heartfelt  was  Plato's  indignation  at  the    yoke    of  average 
mediocrity   and    the    frequent  blunders   of  democratic    in- 
stitutions.      It    formed     an    intelligible    protest    against 
the   existing   order  of  the    State  with    its    shifting   lights 
and   shades.     The  ideal  Athens  varied   according  to   the 
critic's  mood.     Some  were  disposed  to  hero-worship,  with 
Alcibiades   at  that    moment   as   their    idol.     Others  were 
inclined    to    revive    the    institutions    of   aristocracy    either 
in   whole  or  in   part.     Finally,  Plato  himself,  who  was  a 
thorough    hater    of    democracy,    preached    the    Utopian 
doctrine  of   the   philosophic   kings.     Thus  "nature"    and 
"  natural  law  "  were  on  one  side  the  chosen  shibboleth  of 
the  growing  love  of  equality  with    its   steady  advance   to 
cosmopolitanism,  and    on    the   other   side   they  served  the 
aristocrats   and   the    worshippers   of  a   strong   personality. 
One    ambition   was   common    to   both   tendencies.     They 
were  moved  alike  by  the  desire  to  break  loose  from  the 
bonds  in  which  tradition   and   authority  had  fettered  the 
mind  of  mankind. 

8.  We  are  met  here  by  a  double  question.  How  far 
did  the  diminishment  of  authority  extend,  and  what  were 
the  effects  that  accompanied  it  ?  We  are  not  in  a  position 
to  give  even  an  approximately  exact  answer  to  cither  of 
these  questions.  But  one  thing  at  least  is  quite  clear — 
that  no  domain  of  life  or  faith  was  exempt  from  tiie 
attacks  of  criticism.  The  inquisitorial  scepticism  of  the 
age  did  not  pause  even  at  the  gates  of  heaven.     Diagoras 


408  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  Melos,  a  dithyrambic  versifier,  whose  sparse  poetical 
remains  are  steeped  in  awe  of  the  gods,  fell  a  victim  to 
some  unavenged  injury,  and  became  in  consequence  a 
sceptic  as  to  the  divine  justice.  He  gave  expression  to 
this  change  of  view  in  a  volume  of  "  Crushing  Speeches," 
a  title  which  affords  a  glimpse  into  the  blasphemous 
disposition  of  the  orthodox  poet  now  turned  revolutionary. 
In  a  later  chapter  we  shall  have  to  deal  with  the  religious 
doubts  of  Protagoras,  clothed  in  far  more  moderate  garb, 
as  well  as  with  the  theory  of  Prodicus  on  the  origin  of 
religion.  The  abandoned  throne  of  authority  was  usurped 
on  all  sides  by  reason  and  reflection.  Every  question 
of  human  conduct  was  treated  by  way  of  ratiocination, 
and  one  and  all  were  submitted  to  the  verdict  of  Reason. 
Nor  was  this  innovation  confined  to  philosophy  and 
rhetoric.  The  poets  and  the  historians,  too,  surprise  us 
by  the  subtlety  of  their  arguments.  The  dialogue  of  the 
dramatists,  which  even  as  early  as  Sophocles  showed 
traces  of  the  influence  of  the  new  tendency,  became  in 
the  pliant  hands  of  Euripides  the  playground  of  intellectual 
tournaments.  Not  old  Herodotus  himself,  with  his  patri- 
archal modes  of  thought,  escaped  the  spirit  of  his  age 
and  the  temptation  to  discuss  the  great  problems  of 
human  existence  from  a  philosophizing  moralist's  point 
of  view.  Both  he  and  Euripides  started  a  discussion  on 
human  happiness  and  brought  similar  methods  to  bear 
on  it.  Herodotus,  in  his  conversation  between  Solon  and 
Croesus,  set  up  two  abstract  types,  the  first  of  the  man 
who  had  lost  every  claim  to  happiness  except  his  bare 
title  to  wealth,  and  the  second  of  the  poor  man  favoured 
in  all  other  respects  by  good  fortune.  In  the  same  way,  in 
a  fragment  of  the  "  Bellerophon  "  of  Euripides,  we  find  three 
rivals  competing  for  the  palm  of  happiness.  Unlike  the 
artificial  creations  of  Herodotus,  these  types  are  taken  from 
real  life.  They  are  (i)  the  low-born  but  rich  man,  (2)  the 
high-born  but  poor  man,  and  (3)  the  man  without  great 
riches  or  good  birth,  to  whom  by  a  paradoxical  argument 
the  meed  of  victory  was  awarded.  In  the  passage  where 
Herodotus  introduced  three  Persian  nobles  disputing  about 


REFLECTION  SUPERSEDES  AUTHORITY.      409 

the  best  form  of  government,  he  equipped  the  champion 
of  his  own  favourite,  democracy,  with  the  strongest  show 
of  reason,  but  at  the  same  time  he  displayed  considerable 
dialectic  skill  by  providing  the  defenders  of  monarchy 
and  oligarchy  with  no  mean  arguments  for  their  cases. 
In  the  times  of  which  we  are  speaking,  the  problem  of 
education  occupied  the  foreground  of  interest.  Questions 
were  constantly  asked,  and  the  most  diverse  answers  were 
returned,  whether  instruction  or  natural  disposition  was 
the  more  important  factor,  and  whether  theoretical  teach- 
ing or  practical  habituation  was  to  be  preferred.  Euripides, 
with  his  usual  adaptability,  laid  equal  emphasis  on  the 
teachable  quality  of  "  manly  virtue,"  and  on  the  necessity 
of  familiarizing  youth  at  a  tender  age  with  good  examples. 
In  this  connection  we  may  quote  the  following  exclamation 
of  one  of  his  tragic  characters  : — 

"  Nature  is  all  in  all  ;  in  vain  men  try 
To  teach  the  evil  to  be  changed  to  good." 

The  parallel  between  the  cultivation  of  the  intellect  and 
the  sowing  of  a  field  with  fruits  became  a  commonplace 
of  the  age.  Talent  was  compared  with  the  constitution  of 
the  soil ;  instruction  with  the  planting  of  the  seed  ;  the 
industry  of  the  learner  with  the  labour  of  the  husbandman, 
and  so  on  throughout  the  resources  of  the  metaphor.  In 
this  simile,  to  the  features  of  which  we  shall  probably 
have  occasion  to  return,  we  see  that  the  doctrines  of 
education,  which  were  originally  kept  rigidly  apart,  have 
already  been  merged  in  one  thesis. 

The  same  epoch  was  remarkable  for  its  fertility  in 
schemes  of  reform.  Thus  Phalcas  of  Chalcedon,  in  the 
second  half  of  the  fifth  century,  expressed  himself  in 
favour  of  the  equalization  of  wealth,  and  formulated 
proposals  to  that  end,  which,  so  far  as  we  are  aware, 
however,  would  have  affected  real  property  alone.  Another 
item  in  his  programme  was  the  .state  control  of  all 
industrial  labour,  its  organization,  tliat  is  to  say,  by  a 
system  of  state  slaves.  Ilippodamus  of  Miletus,  again, 
whose   acquaintance  our  readers  have  already  made,  and 


4IO  GREEK   THINKERS. 

who  was  slightly  senior  to  Phaleas,  recommended  a 
complete  transformation  of  the  internal  constitution  of 
states  as  well  as  of  the  external  arrangement  of  cities. 
His  ideal  polity  comprised  three  classes,  in  the  respective 
spheres  of  industry,  agriculture,  and  war.  Of  his  three 
divisions  of  the  land  one-third  only  was  to  be  private 
property  ;  another  third  was  to  be  devoted  to  the  purposes 
of  divine  worship,  and  the  remainder  to  military  supply. 
All  the  public  officials  were  to  be  elected  by  the  suffrages 
of  the  total  community  of  10,000  men.  The  magic 
number  three  was  also  efficacious  in  Hippodamus'  division 
of  the  criminal  code  into  three  sections,  applied  respectively 
to  offences  against  life,  honour,  and  property.  The  adminis- 
trative work  of  government  similarly  fell  in  three  categories, 
dealing  respectively  with  the  citizens,  the  orphans,  and 
the  foreigners.  It  is  in  this  scheme  that  the  thought  was 
first  expressed  of  the  duty  of  the  State  to  honour  with 
special  marks  of  distinction  the  authors  of  useful  inven- 
tions. Moreover,  the  creation  of  a  supreme  court  of 
appeal,  and  the  acquittal  of  defendants  ab  instantia,  were 
innovations  first  recommended  by  Hippodamus,  and, 
except  for  the  counter-testimony  of  Aristotle,  we  should 
add  to  the  list  of  his  original  projects  the  principle  of 
educating  at  the  expense  of  the  State  the  children  of  the 
victims  of  war.  But  it  was  the  disciples  of  Socrates  who 
first  soared  to  the  summits  of  boldness  ;  the  doubts  that 
still  gnaw  at  the  foundations  of  social  order  took  their  rise 
in  that  select  band. 

But  apart  altogether  from  the  extreme  consequences 
first  drawn  by  Plato  and  the  Cynics  from  the  sovereignty 
of  reason,  the  spectacle  is  vivid  enough  to  recall  the 
radicalism  of  the  French  Revolution,  The  two  epochs 
are  divided,  however,  by  one  deep  line  of  cleavage.  The 
age  of  Greek  emancipation  was  innocent  of  any  serious 
attempt  to  transfer  its  theories  into  the  practice  of  social 
and  political  life.  A  single  parallel  may  be  taken  as 
typical  in  this  connection.  In  Paris  the  "goddess  Reason" 
enjoyed  a  real  though  ephemeral  worship,  and  the  Athens 
of  the  epoch  we  are  discussing  was  also  acquainted  with 


ANCIENT  RADICALISM.  4II 

that  goddess.  Her  shrine,  however,  was  on  the  stage  of 
comedy,  and  her  priests  were  the  buffoons  of  Aristophanes, 
who  put  in  the  mouth  of  Euripides  the  prayer,  "  Hear  me, 
O  Reason,  and  ye  olfactory  organs ! "  Nor  did  the  other 
Radical  doctrines  of  that  age  try  to  escape  from  the 
shadows  of  literature  and  the  schools  into  the  light  of 
reality.  At  the  same  time  it  would  be  completely 
erroneous  to  conclude  that  ancient  Radicalism  was 
deficient  on  the  side  of  intensity.  The  history  of 
Cynicism  will  show  us  that  there  was  no  lack  of  persons 
ready  to  push  their  break  with  tradition  to  the  extreme 
length  of  their  serious  convictions.  Moreover,  the  indirect 
influence  of  philosophic  radicalism  on  the  culture  of  the 
succeeding  centuries  will  loom  before  us  in  huge  proportions. 
Still,  generally  speaking,  philosophy  may  be  said  to  have 
been  a  powerful  intellectual  fermentation  without  directly 
becoming  a  factor  in  practical  life.  And  the  cause  of  this 
suspense  in  its  development  is  probably  to  be  sought  in  the 
following  circumstances.  The  economic  condition  of  those 
times,  which  afforded  a  pointed  contrast  with  that  obtaining 
in  Sparta  in  the  third  century  B.C.,  was  at  least  not  intoler- 
able to  the  masses.  Violent  collisions  were  indeed  not 
unfrequent,  but  they  did  not  differ  essentially  from  the 
conflicts  of  the  classes  in  former  generations.  Their 
acuteness  in  the  course  of  the  Peloponnesian  War  was 
due  to  the  influence  of  transient  political  constellations. 
The  Greek  religion  was  pliant  enough  to  follow  the 
immense  changes  in  philosophic  thought ;  and,  Anally, 
the  national  character  of  the  Greek.s,  and  pre-eminently 
of  the  Athenians,  was  in.stinctively  averse  from  all  sudden- 
ness and  precipitancy,  and  was  marked  by  a  sense  of 
measure  and  tact  favourable  to  a  gradual  progress  in  all 
fields  of  development.  So  much,  perhaps,  by  way  of 
provisional  reply  to  the  (juestions  asked  at  the  beginning 
of  this  section.  Before  we  go  further  we  must  pass  in 
review  some  of  the  rhetoricians,  teachers,  poets,  and 
historians,  who  formed  the  chief  figures  in  this  great 
intellectual  movement. 


4T2  GREEK   THINKERS. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE   SOPHISTS. 

I.  Fertile  though  the  fifth  century  had  been  in  literary 
productions,  it  was  far  from  earning  the  character  of  "an 
age  of  scribblers."  The  Greek  still  preferred  to  take 
his  knowledge  through  the  ear  instead  of  the  eye.  The 
old-time  rhapsodist  was  gradually  vanishing,  but  his  place 
in  the  public  life  of  Hellas  was  being  filled  by  a  new 
figure.  The  "  sophist "  at  Olympia  and  elsewhere  wore  the 
same  purple  raiment,  attended  the  same  great  festivals, 
and  delivered  original  harangues  and  panegyrics,  instead 
of  the  old  heroic  poems,  before  the  assembled  holiday- 
makers.  Moreover,  elaborate  lectures  on  the  various 
questions  of  learning  and  life  had  become  familiar  in 
smaller  social  circles.*  And  thus  we  are  able  to 
measure  the  revolution  which  had  taken  place  in  the 
education  of  youth  shortly  before  the  last  third  of  the 
century.  The  higher  demands  of  political  life,  ahd 
the  claims  of  an  increased  intellectual  activity,  were  no 
longer  satisfied  with  the  old  scanty  instruction  in  the 
elements  of  reading,  writing,  and  arithmetic,  which,  to- 
gether with  music,  gymnastics,  and  ultimately  draw- 
ing, had  formed  the  complete  curriculum  of  instruction. 
There  had  been  no  provision,  either  from  the  public  or 
from  private  sources,  for  the  kind  of  education  which  is 
imparted  in  our  public  schools  and  in  our  non-professional 
universities,  but  the  time  came  when  men  of  original 
talents   voluntarily   undertook    to   fill    up   these    gaps    in 

*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  I. 


HALF  JOURNALIST — HALF  PROFESSOR 

education.       Itinerant    teachers    began    to    wane 
city    to    city,    gathering    young     men    round    t' 
giving    them    lessons.      Their    instruction    comprisv,^ 
elements    of  the    positive    sciences,    the    doctrines    of   the 
nature-philosophers,    the    interpretation    and    criticism    of 
poetry,  the  distinctions  of  the  newly-founded  rudiments  of 
grammar,   and    the    subtleties    of  metaphysics.       But    the 
central  point  of  the  education  consisted,  as  was  proper,  of 
a  preparation  for  practical,  and  especially  for  public,  life. 
Thus    Protagoras   of   Abdera,    whom    we   hear   of   as   the 
earliest  and    most    renowned    of   these    itinerant  teachers, 
formulated  his  educational  ideal,  according  to  Plato,  in  the 
following  words : — 

"  And  this  is  prudence  in  affairs  private  as  well  as  public ;  he 
will  learn  to  order  his  own  house  in  the  best  manner,  and  he 
will  be  best  able  to  speak  and  act  in  affairs  of  the  slate." 

The  essence  of  the  instruction,  in  a  word,  was  contained 
in  the  moral  and  political  sciences,  or  in  such  rudiments 
thereof  as  were  constructed  or  in  course  of  construction. 
The  art  of  eloquence,  however,  the  high  significance  and 
constant  care  of  which  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
discuss,*  was  the  soul  of  practical  politics.  These  self- 
styled  sophists,  these  masters  or  teachers  of  wisdom,  would 
obviously  not  confine  their  activity  to  the  education  of  the 
young.  They  brought  to  the  altars  of  rhetoric  and  literature 
the  same  gifts  and  resources  which  served  them  in  their  teach- 
ing capacity.  In  a  certain  sense,  too,  it  was  a  necessity  of 
their  position  that  they  should  be  restlessly  engaged  in 
these  different  pursuits,  for  they  were  entirely  without  subsidy 
from  the  State,  they  relied  absolutely  on  their  own  efforts, 
they  resided  more  frequently  abroad  than  at  home,  and 
thus  handicapped,  they  were  comjjelled  to  enter  on  a 
keen  competition  among  themselves.  Modern  life  contains 
no  exact  parallel  to  the  sophists.  They  were  like  the 
German  professor  of  to-day,  but  were  distinguished  from 
him  by  the  lack  of  all  relationship  to  the  State,  whether 

*   15k.  III.  Cli.  IV.  §  I. 


414  GREEK    THINKERS. 

useful  or  hurtful  to  their  calling,  as  well  as  by  the  absence 
of  all  facultative  narrowness  and  specialist  limitations. 
Their  standard  of  attainments  for  the  most  part  was  well- 
nigh  encyclopaedic,  and  they  resembled  the  journalists  and 
men  of  letters  of  to-day  in  their  constant  readiness  for  the 
war  of  words.  Half  professor  and  half  journalist — this  is 
the  best  formula  that  we  can  devise  to  characterize  the 
sophist  of  the  fifth  century  B.C.  They  earned  a  rich  meed 
of  applause  no  less  than  of  material  success,  and  the 
enthusiasm  that  their  foremost  representatives  aroused  in 
the  youth  of  Greece,  with  its  keen  worship  of  beauty  of 
form  and  intellectual  culture,  was  almost  immeasurable. 

The  sophists,  as  Plato  expresses  it,  were  borne  on 
the  shoulders  of  their  disciples,  and  the  appearance  of  one 
of  these  heroes  was  the  signal  for  an  outburst  of  excite- 
ment in  wide  circles  of  the  young  men  of  Athens.  We 
are  told — in  a  passage  of  Plato  from  which  we  borrow  the 
following  account — how  even  before  daybreak  the  house 
and  bedchamber  of  Socrates  were  stormed  by  a  high-born 
pupil,  who  woke  the  master  with  the  cry,  "  Hast  heard  the 
great  news  }  "  and  how  the  sage  answered  in  alarm,  "  For 
heaven's  sake,  what  evil  tidings  dost  thou  bring  .-' "  "  God 
forbid,"  replied  the  pupil,  "  'tis  the  best  of  all.  He  has 
come."  "  Who  .-*  "  "  The  great  sophist  of  Abdera."  The 
youth  then  besought  Socrates  to  put  in  a  good  word  for 
him  with  the  renowned  Protagoras,  that  he  might  be 
admitted  in  the  band  of  his  disciples.  In  the  morning, 
they  went  together  to  the  house  of  the  wealthy  Callias, 
where  the  guest  from  Abdera  was  lodging.  There  they 
found  the  liveliest  excitement.  Protagoras  was  walking  to 
and  fro  in  the  vestibule,  with  three  distinguished  friends 
on  either  side  of  him,  including  his  host  and  the  two  sons  of 
Pericles,  and  followed  by  a  troop  of  secondary  worshippers. 

"  And  nothing,"  adds  the  Platonic  Socrates  in  his  satiric  vein — 
"  nothing  amused  me  so  much  as  to  see  how  the  young  men  took 
pains  to  give  precedence  to  the  master,  and  how,  as  soon  as  the 
van  of  the  procession  reached  one  end  of  the  hall,  the  train  parted 
itself  asunder,  in  order  to  close  up  again  in  due  order  behind  the 
great  man  and  his  companions." 


WHAT    WAS   COMMON   TO    THE   SOPHISTS.      415 

In  various  apartments  of  the  interior  of  the  house  other 
sophists  were  holding  their  court,  each  surrounded  by  a 
bevy  of  admirers  like  the  belle  of  a  ball.  And  now 
Socrates  preferred  his  request  in  an  ordinary  conversational 
tone,  and  the  rhetorician  replied  in  measured  language,  with 
a  long  set  speech  delivered  with  impressive  ceremony.  A 
philosophic  discussion  sprang  up  between  the  two,  and  the 
rest  of  the  company,  hurriedly  collecting  all  the  benches 
and  seats  in  the  house,  sat  down  to  the  feast  of  ear  and 
mind.  Protagoras  left  it  to  the  audience  to  decide  whether 
he  should  answer  Socrates  in  a  concise  or  discursive  manner, 
whether  by  a  speech  or  by  the  narration  of  a  myth.  The 
listeners,  as  soon  as  he  began  to  speak,  hung  with  eager 
expectation  on  his  lips,  and  broke,  when  the  discourse  was 
ended,  into  storms  of  long-pent  applause  :  the  imperishable 
charm  of  Plato's  style  has  made  the  whole  story  familiar, 
and  though  it  contains  a  strong  element  of  caricature,  yet 
its  realistic  features  are  still  clearly  perceptible. 

2.  We  may  be  asked,  What  was  the  genuine  common 
factor  in  the  several  sophists  .''  and  to  that  question  we  can 
but  reply  that  it  consisted  merely  of  their  teaching  pro- 
fession and  the  conditions  of  its  practice  imposed  by  the 
age  in  which  they  lived.  P'or  the  rest,  they  were  united, 
as  other  people  were  united  too,  by  the  part  they  took  in 
the  intellectual  movements  of  their  times.  It  is  illegiti- 
mate, if  not  absurd,  to  speak  of  a  sophistic  mind,  sophistic 
morality,  sophistic  scepticism,  and  so  forth.  It  would  have 
been  miraculous  if  the  sophists,  the  paid  teachers  of  youth, 
whether  they  were  found  in  the  Thracian  colony  of  Abdera, 
or  in  the  Pcloponnesian  province  of  P21is,  in  Central  Greece, 
or  in  Sicily,  had  stood  nearer  to  one  another  in  sentiment 
and  thought  than  to  the  other  representatives  of  con- 
temporary thought.  The  most  that  wc  can  say  is,  that 
the  majority  of  popular  writers  and  teachers  of  every  age 
have  been  on  the  side  which  made  for  victory,  and  have  not 
backed  the  losing  or  retrograde  cause.  And  this  was  true 
of  the  sophists  as  of  the  rest.  Dependent  as  they  were 
on  their  public,  they  necessarily  became  the  mouthpiece  of 
ideas    which,    if   not    dominant,   were   at    least    rising  into 


41 6  GREEK   THINKERS, 

predominance.  It  is,  therefore,  not  wholly  inadmissible  to 
regard  the  members  of  this  profession  in  general  as  the 
vehicles  of  emancipation,  though  not  all  sophists  were  the 
leaders  of  emancipated  thought,  nor — far  less — all  emanci- 
pators sophists.  Furthermore,  we  shall  see  that  the  majority 
of  them,  possibly  on  account  of  that  very  dependence,  main- 
tained in  the  main  a  moderate  attitude,  and  that  no  one  of 
them  was  so  advanced  a  Radical  in  social  or  political 
thought  as  Plato  and  the  Cynics. 

But  before  we  go  further,  if  our  readers  are  not  to  be 
misled  by  false  associations  of  ideas,  we  must  acquaint 
them  with  the  history  of  the  words  "sophist,"  "sophistical," 
"sophistry."  The  name  o-o^tcrrT/c,  or  "sophist,"  is  derived 
from  the  adjective  (T0(p6g  ("wise"),  and  directly  from  the  verb 
ao(j)i(!ioiuaL  ("to  think  out,"  or  "to  devise").  Thus  it  originally 
means  more  or  less  any  man  who  has  attained  to  eminent 
success  in  some  faculty  or  other.  The  name  was  applied  to 
great  poets,  important  philosophers,  famous  musicians,  and 
to  the  seven  wise  men  whose  sententious  maxims  made  them 
renowned  in  public  and  private  life.  At  an  early  time  the 
word  seems  to  have  acquired  a  tinge  of  disfavour,  but  at  first 
at  least  the  tinge  must  have  been  very  slight,  for  otherwise 
Protagoras  and  his  successors  would  never  have  selected  the 
title  for  themselves.  It  was  a  disfavour  which  was  destined 
to  increase,  however,  and  it  flowed  from  various  sources.  In 
the  first  place,  it  is  to  be  noted  that  any  attempt  to  penetrate 
the  secrets  of  nature  aroused  the  mistrust  of  pious  men. 
Theologians  looked  on  the  natural  philosophers  with  sus- 
picion, and  even  other  words,  originally  neutral  in  their  signifi- 
cance, acquired  an  unfavourable  bye-taste.  Thus  in  the 
popular  decree  introduced  by  Diopeithes  and  directed  at 
Anaxagoras  the  science  of  the  heavens,  or  meteorology,  was 
associated  with  a  disbelief  in  the  gods,  and  a  flavour  of 
suspicion  attached  to  the  word  "  meteorologist."  It  was 
hardly  to  be  wondered  that  the  new  sjaeculation  about 
problems  of  knowledge,  and  questions  of  morality  and  right, 
should  likewise  have  brought  on  their  authors  the  charge  of 
an  indiscreet  curiosity.  And  to  this  fear,  whether  genuine 
or  pretended,  of  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  in  general,  there 


IVHV   THE   SOPHISTS    WERE   DISLIKED.      417 

was  added  now  a  dislike  from  a  fresh  and  fertile  spring 
for  the  new  professional  class  devoted  to  the  practice 
and  spread  of  science.  The  Greek  view  of  life  was  at  all 
times  aristocratic.  Their  respect  for  wage-earning  stood 
even  lower  than  in  other  slave-owning  communities.  Hero- 
dotus, in  asking  if  the  Greeks  had  learnt  their  contempt  of 
industry  from  the  Egyptians,  tells  us  that  "the  Corinthians 
despise  manual  labour  least  and  the  Lacedemonians  most." 
In  Thebes  there  was  a  law  that  no  one  should  be  eligible  to 
public  office  who  had  not  absented  himself  from  the  markets 
for  the  space  of  ten  years  ;  and  even  Plato  and  Aristotle 
were  of  opinion  that  artisans  and  traders  should  be  excluded 
from  full  civic  rights.  Only  a  very  few  wage-earning  pro- 
fessions, such  as  that  of  the  physician,  were  not  wholly 
incompatible  with  social  respect.  An  especial  reproach 
attached  to  the  employment  of  intellectual  labour  for  the 
benefit  of  some  one  else  who  paid  for  it ;  this  was  regarded 
as  a  degradation,  as  a  yoke  of  servitude  that  was  volun- 
tarily assumed.  When  the  development  of  the  law  courts 
engendered  the  calling  of  the  orator  or  advocate,  his  pro- 
fession was  ridiculed  by  the  comic  writers  no  less  than  that 
of  the  sophist.  Past  members  of  the  profession  did  their 
best  to  wipe  out  the  recollection,  as  may  be  seen  in  the 
instance  of  Isocrates  ;  and  he,  too,  when  reduced  to  founding 
a  school  of  rhetoric,  is  said  to  have  wept  tears  of  .shame 
on  receiving  his  first  fee.  We  are  reminded  of  the  embar- 
rassment felt  by  Lord  I^yron,  as  well  as  by  the  aristocratic 
founders  of  the  lidinbiiy'^h  Rcvinv,  on  accepting  their 
earliest  honorarium  as  authors.  A  third  cause  for  the  dis- 
favour which  attached  to  the  calling  of  a  .sophist  was 
discovered  in  the  feeling  of  those  persons  who  were  unable 
to  pay  for  such  instruction,  and  wh(j  were  accordingly  placed 
at  a  disadvantage,  in  their  own  opinion  at  least,  in  public 
affairs  no  less  than  in  private  quarrels,  in  comparison  with 
their  opponents  or  rivals  who  had  enjoyed  a  training  of 
that  kind.  In  this  respect  the  position  of  the  sophists  has 
been  aptly  compared  with  that  of  professors  of  fencing 
in  a  community  where  the  duel  is  an  established  institu- 
tion—a parallel  particularly  applicable  to  the  litigious 
VOL.   I.  -  i' 


4l8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

community  of  Athens,  the  city  of  law-suits.  Lastly,  these 
tacit  and  spontaneous  factors  which  operated  to  discredit  the 
sophist  were  reinforced  by  the  deliberate  purpose  of  a  power- 
ful personality  whose  hand  wielded  the  engine  of  a  mag- 
nificent literary  style.  Plato  contemned  the  whole  existing 
order  of  society.  Its  greatest  statesmen  seemed  to  him 
as  despicable  as  its  poets  and  other  intellectual  leaders. 
He  was  anxious,  above  all,  to  separate  by  fosse  and  wall, 
so  to  speak,  his  own  teaching  and  his  own  school,  in  which 
he  saw  the  sole  chance  of  salvation,  from  everything  which 
could  possibly  be  confused  with  them,  or  which  might  even 
distantly  resemble  them.  As  a  man  of  brilliant  parts  and 
of  noble  birth,  he  might  have  contended  for  honour  and 
glory  in  the  open  day  of  public  life.  Instead  of  so  doing, 
he  chose  to  live  in  the  shadow  of  a  school,  where  he 
wove  his  words  and  spun  his  ideas  "  conversing  in  low  tones 
with  two  or  three  admiring  youths."  For  this  he  was 
severely  censured,  and  certainly  by  no  one  more  severely 
than  by  his  nearest  friends.  Accordingly,  he  was  earnestly 
at  pains  to  distinguish  as  sharply  as  possible  his  own  methods, 
aimed,  as  he  believed,  at  the  regeneration  of  mankind,  from 
those  which  seemed  to  be  directed  at  less  exalted  goals. 
Socrates,  his  master,  in  contemporary  opinion  had  been 
ranked  more  or  less  as  a  sophist,  and  had  even  served  as 
the  type  of  that  order  ;  but  in  a  later  passage  we  shall  see 
how  thoroughly  Plato  succeeded,  though  not  altogether 
without  violence,  in  consecrating  to  the  honour  of  his  master 
a  particular  niche  in  the  memory  of  posterity. 

No  resources  of  satire  were  foreign  to  the  art  of  Plato. 
He  would  as  lief  be  coarse  as  delicate,  and  his  attacks  on 
the  sophists  were  even  more  remarkable  for  their  extent 
than  for  their  intensity.  Every  member  of  that  order,  as 
he  trod  the  boards  of  the  Platonic  dialogue,  was  received 
with  terms  of  contempt  or  at  the  best  with  marks  of  ridi- 
cule. But  no  :  this  rule  has  one  exception.  In  an  unguarded 
moment,  as  we  must  suppose,  Plato  let  slip  an  expression  of 
unqualified  appreciation  in  respect  to  one  of  the  sophists.  In 
the  dialogue  "Lysis"  he  spoke  of  Miccus  in  one  breath  as 
"  a  friend  and  eulogist  of  Socrates  "  and  "  a  clever  man  and 


PLATO'S  ATTACKS    ON   THE   SOPHISTS.      419 

an  excellent  sophist."  Miccus  is  otherwise  completely  un- 
known to  us,  and  perhaps  we  may  add  that  his  insignificance 
saved  him  from  attack.  For  otherwise  Plato  gave  his  malice 
full  rein.  Even  in  instances  where  the  doctrines  of  the 
sophist  revealed  not  the  slightest  blemish  even  to  his  jealous 
eye,  still  a  comic  effect  would  be  produced  by  bringing  him 
in  at  an  awkward  moment  and  in  an  obtrusive  way.  This 
was  the  fate  of  Prodicus  and  Hippias,  who  were  further 
ridiculed  respectively  for  their  weak  health  and  their  fussy 
versatility.  It  is  true  that  Protagoras  was  accorded  the 
full  tribute  of  respect  due  to  his  exalted  personality  and 
honour,  but  the  old-fashioned  and  obsolete  texture  of  his 
rhetoric  was  submitted  with  perfect  mimicry  to  the  ridicule 
of  the  reader,  while  every  real  or  supposed  error  in  his 
argument  was  remorselessly  dragged  into  the  light.  But 
Plato's  most  emphatic  language  was  reserved  for  the 
features  at  which  the  aristocratic  sense  of  his  countrymen, 
and  especially  of  his  peers,  took  particular  umbrage.  He 
delighted  in  jeering  at  the  professional  element  in  sophistry, 
which  he  considered  vulgar  and  banal,  with  especial  refer- 
ence to  the  system  of  fees.  If  the  reward  were  small, 
he  affected  to  regard  it  as  a  proof  of  the  worthlessness  of 
the  service  performed,  and  if  it  were  large,  he  represented 
it  as  entirely  disproportionate  and  undeserved.  Modesty, 
as  we  know,  was  not  a  virtue  of  that  age,*  and  Plato 
himself,  by  the  way,  was  no  exception.  It  is  extremely 
probable,  therefore,  that  the  sophists,  whose  business  it 
was  to  advertise  themselves  in  difficult  circumstances,  dis- 
played a  degree  of  over-confidence  in  the  manner  of  their 
appearance.  Nor  would  the  members  of  that  class  fail  to 
display  the  petty  jealousies  and  rivalries  which  are  inevitable 
to  all  competitive  professions.  But  this  should  by  no  means 
be  taken  as  implying  that  the  picture  of  the  profession 
was  complete  when  its  share  in  our  common  human  weak- 
ness had  been  described.  It  would  be  as  unfair  to  tlraw 
that  conclusion  as  to  apply  the  same  method  to  the  modern 
successors  of  the  sophists — teachers,  and  popular  authors — 
or  to  the  members  of  any  other  class,  such  as  barristers  or 
*  Cp.  Bk.  III.  Ch.  II.  §  [. 


420  GREEK   THINKERS. 

members  of  Parliament.  Plato's  contempt  of  the  sophists 
stands  on  the  same  plane  of  thought  as  Schopenhauer's 
scoffs  at  the  "  philosophy  professors  "  or  Comte's  assault 
on  the  "Academicians." 

In  one  instance,  however,  Plato's  criticism  hit  the  mark. 
We  see  his  sophists  measuring  themselves  with  Socrates 
in  dialectic  bouts  and  suffering  complete  defeat.  The 
dialogues  as  such  were  pure  fiction,  but  this  particular 
feature  may  be  taken  as  an  historical  fact,  for  Socrates' 
championship  in  dialectic  forms  an  undisputed  title  to  fame 
and  is  one  of  the  secrets  of  his  influence  on  posterity.  In 
this  connection,  however,  a  curious  point  is  to  be  noted. 
When  Plato  abandons  the  rapier-thrusts  of  ridicule  in  order 
to  attack  the  sophists  with  the  heavy  artillery  of  serious 
argument,  the  names  of  Protagoras,  Hippias,  and  Prodicus 
disappear,  and  sophistry  itself  wears  a  different  face.  Those 
genuine  old  sophists  had  shown  themselves  incapable  of 
adopting  the  Socratic  method  of  cross-examination.  They 
had  no  champion  to  enter  for  the  contest  of  short  questions 
and  answers  ;  but  when  Plato  became  serious,  the  sophists 
whom  he  introduced  were  precisely  the  men  for  that  work. 
The  key  to  this  riddle  has  long  ago  been  found.  It  is  to  be 
discovered  in  the  fact  that  Plato's  literary  activity  embraced 
more  than  half  a  century.  We  are  not,  accordingly, 
surprised  that  between  his  youth  and  his  old  age  a  new 
race  of  sophists  should  have  arisen.  Indeed,  at  the  time 
when  Plato  first  took  up  the  pen,  the  old  generation  was 
dying  out.  Thus  the  composition  of  three  at  least  of  the 
comedies  which  made  a  butt  of  the  activity  of  the  sophists 
and  of  their  pedagogic  innovations  fell  in  the  same  decade 
in  which  Plato  was  born.  The  "  Epulones  "  of  Aristophanes 
was  produced  in  the  winter  of  427  B.C.,  a  few  months 
before  the  birth  of  Plato,  who  was  four  years  old  when 
the  "  Clouds "  was  produced,  and  six  at  the  time  of  the 
"  Flatterers  "  of  Eupolis.  It  is  entirely  natural,  therefore, 
that  the  Athenian  thinker  in  the  evening  of  his  long  life 
should  have  thought  much  less  of  these  sophists  than 
of  other  philosophers  whom  he  hated,  and  whom  he 
delighted  to  call  by  ill  names.     In   a  word,  the   sophists 


SOPHISTRY   VARIES   IN  PLATO'S  LIFETIME.      42 1 

who    were    assailed    with    such    bitter     mockery    in    the 
Platonic  "  Sophistes  "  itself,  and  in  other  similar  dialogues 
composed  at  about  the  same  date,  were  the  disciples  of 
Socrates    and    the    disciples    of    his    disciples,    above    all 
Antisthenes  and  his  crew — the  deadliest  enemy  of  Plato. 
It   must   be   conceded   that  the   art   of    Plato   sought    to 
weave  threads  of  connection  between  these  sophists  and 
those    others  to  whom  the    name   properly   belonged,   but 
the  artificiality  of  such  attempts  can  escape  no  intelligent 
reader  of  the  "  Euthydemus  "  and  "  Sophistes."     Aristotle, 
as  may  readily  be  conceived,  inherited  this  convention  of 
language.    In  not  a  single  passage  of  his  numerous  writings 
was  the  expression   "  sophist "   ever  used    to    designate  a 
member  of  that  profession  in  the  older  generation,  while 
once  at  least,  in  speaking  of  the  system  of  fees,  the  name 
of  Protagoras  was  honourably  mentioned  by  him  in  sharp 
contrast  with  the  sophists.    Aristotle  used  the  word  in  three 
senses :    First,  in  the   old    simple,   blameless   significance, 
in    which   he  too  described  the    seven   sages   as  sophists  ; 
secondly,  to  describe  a  few  philosophers  personally  in  little 
sympathy  with  himself,  such  as  Aristippus,  a   disciple  of 
Socrates  ;  and,  thirdly  and  chiefly,  the  term  was  employed 
as  a  title  for  the  "  Eristics,"  for  the  dialecticians,  that  is  to 
say,  with  whom  Aristotle  was  engaged  in  a  life-long  feud, 
and  who  emerged,  spoiling  for  a  fight,  from  the  schools  of 
Antisthenes  and  Euclides,  the  Socratic  resident  in  Megara. 
Now,  as  the  wits  of  these  philosophers  were   engaged  in 
contriving   puzzles   and  fallacies,  the   result    was   that  the 
words    "  sophism  "    and     "  sophistical  "    were    added     to 
"  sophist "  and  "  sophistry  "  in  the  vocabulary  of  the  polemic 
waged  by   Plato  in  his  old  age  and   by  Aristotle  against 
the    Eristics,    and    the    meaning   which  has   since  become 
dominant  was  won  and  established  at  that  time.     The  use 
of   the    term    "sophist,"    as    employed    by    Aristotle,    was 
preserved   till  the   end    of   antiquity.     Even    then    it  was 
still    occasionally    used    in    its    originally    neutral    if    not 
precisely  honourable  sense.     At  times,  indeed,  such  as  that 
of  the  later  sophistry  of  the  Roman   lunpire,  this  became 
once    more    the   predominant    usage,  but    it    has    been  far 


42  2  GREEK    THINKERS. 

more  frequently  employed  as  a  more  or  less  scornful  term 
of  reproach.  Nor  did  Plato  himself  escape  this  con- 
temptuous appellation.  He  was  rebuked  as  a  sophist  in 
that  sense  by  his  contemporary  adversaries  and  rivals,  the 
rhetoricians  Lysias  and  Isocrates  ;  Aristotle  incurred  the 
same  fate  by  the  verdict  of  the  historian  Timaeus  ;  his 
cousin  Callisthenes  by  that  of  Alexander  the  Great  ; 
Anaxarchus  the  Democritean  by  that  of  Hermippus  the 
Aristotelian  ;  Eubulides  the  Socratic  by  that  of  Epicurus  ; 
Carneades  the  Academician  by  that  of  Posidonius  the 
Stoic,  and  so  on  with  scarcely  an  exception  through  the 
whole  catalogue  of  the  philosophers  and  their  opponents, 
till  we  reach  the  name  of  the  Founder  of  Christianity, 
whom  Lucian  designated  a  sophist. 

3.  The  history  of  this  change  of  meaning  is  not  related 
here  for  the  first  time.  Still,  it  is  well  to  pause  on  it,  to 
dwell  ever  more  fondly  on  its  details,  and  to  impress  its 
significance  on  the  reluctant  senses  even  of  the  experts  in 
this  branch  of  learning.  For  many  who  cannot  but  admit 
the  correctness  of  these  statements  are  too  apt  to  forget  or 
to  neglect  them.  They  begin  with  a  handsome  acknowledg- 
ment of  the  ambiguity  of  the  word  "  sophist,"  and  of  the 
injustice  done  to  the  bearers  of  that  name  in  the  fifth 
century  B.C.  by  the  ugly  sense  in  which  the  term  came  to 
be  used,  and  they  admit  that  restitution  is  due.  But  the 
debt  is  forgotten  before  it  is  paid  ;  the  debtor  reverts  to  the 
old  familiar  usage,  and  speaks  of  the  sophists  once  more  as 
if  they  were  really  mere  intellectual  acrobats,  unscrupulous 
tormentors  of  language,  or  the  authors  of  pernicious  teach- 
ings. The  spirit  may  be  willing,  but  the  reason  is  helpless 
against  the  force  of  inveterate  habits  of  thought.  Verily 
the  sophists  were  born  under  an  evil  star.  Their  one  short 
hour  of  triumphant  success  was  paid  for  by  centuries  of 
obloquy.  Two  invincible  foes  were  banded  together 
against  them — the  caprice  of  language,  and  the  genius  of 
a  great  writer,  if  not  the  greatest  writer  of  all  times.  Little 
indeed  did  he  imagine,  when  he  played  upon  them  with 
the  lightnings  of  his  wit  and  irony,  that  the  airy  creations 
of  his  fertile  invention  and  of  his  exuberant  youthfulness 


TREATISE   ''ON   THE   ART:'  423 

would  one  day  be  called  to  the  bar  of  serious  historical 
investigation.  He  made  game  of  the  living,  and  not  of  the 
dead,  and  it  was  the  third  and  most  fatal  calamity  which 
befell  the  sophists  that  their  vitality  departed,  and  that  they 
became  a  part  of  the  dead  past.  The  restless  itinerant 
teachers  founded  no  schools.  No  faithful  bands  of  disciples 
watched  over  their  writings  and  kept  their  memory  green. 
After  the  lapse  of  a  few  centuries,  of  all  their  literary  pro- 
ductions but  a  few  sorry  fragments  were  preserved,  and 
merely  fragments  of  those  fragments  are  at  our  disposal 
to-day.  We  are  almost  totally  deprived  of  first-hand 
witnesses  to  their  work. 

We  shall  presently  turn  to  the  individual  sophists,  and 
endeavour  to  gain  acquaintance  with  their  personality  and 
their  teachings.  But  first  we  are  bound  to  mention  a 
literary  monument,  which,  though  it  does  not  bear  the 
name  of  a  sophist  on  its  title-page,  is  yet  admirably 
adapted  to  help  us  to  realize  the  character  of  at  least  a 
portion  of  what  is  called  sophistic  literature.  The  Hippo- 
cratic  collection  comprises,  our  readers  will  remember,  a 
great  variety  of  contents.  Among  them  is  a  treatise  which 
may  confidently  be  ascribed  to  the  age  and  the  circle  that 
we  are  discussing,  apart  altogether  from  any  attempt  to 
identify  its  author.  It  is  entitled  "  On  the  Art,"  and, 
treating  of  the  art  of  medicine,  it  undertakes  to  defend  it 
against  the  attacks  which  it  encountered  from  an  early 
date.  This  "  apology  for  medicine  "  displays  all  the  features 
which  we  should  expect  to  find  in  the  intellectual  work 
of  a  sophist  of  that  age.  It  is  not  so  much  a  set  treatise  as 
an  address  designed  for  oral  delivery,  carefully  constructed 
for  that  purpose,  and  polished  with  consummate  mastery. 
These  facts  alone  would  go  far  to  exclude  the  theory  of  its 
authorship  by  a  physician,  even  if  other  circumstances  did 
not  remove  the  last  possibility  of  doubt.  At  the  close  of 
the  work,  for  instance,  the  writer  contrasted  his  own 
discourse  with  the  "  evidence  of  facts  from  i)rofessional 
medical  men,"  thus,  so  to  say,  taking  a  courteous  leave  of 
the  physicians  and  claiming  the  dues  (jf  mutual  respect  for 
himself  and  his  brothers  of  the  pen.     Further,  he  referred 


424  GREEK   THINKERS. 

to  another  speech  which  he  hoped  to  compose  in  the  future 
in  respect  to  the  remaining  arts  ;  and  a  discussion  of  the 
theory  of  knowledge,  in  which,  parenthetically  remarked, 
he  was  clearly  an  opponent  of  Melissus,  led  him  to  mention 
a   longer    disquisition    on    the    same    theme    which    may 
almost  certainly  be  ascribed  to  no  other  author  but  him- 
self.    He    was    so    habituated    to    polemics    that    it    had 
become  his  second  nature  to  rig  up  an  adversary  before 
his  eyes  and  meet  his  arguments  with  counter-arguments. 
His   learning   was    encyclopaedic.     He    jumped    at   every 
opportunity  of  trespassing  the  narrow  limits  of  the  matter 
before  him,  now  for  the  sake  of  a  brief  allusion,  and  again 
for    longer  excursions   in  which  to  display  his  familiarity 
with  ideas  of  the  widest  range.      Thus  in  the  course  of 
a  very  few  pages  he  touched  on  the  problems  of  causality 
and  of  the  origin  of  language,  on  the  element  of  chance  in 
human  action,  on  the  relation  of  perception    to  objective 
reality,  of  natural  disposition  to  the  means  of  culture,  of 
the  industrial  arts  to  the  raw  material,  and  so  forth.     He 
may  fairly  be  entitled  half  rhetorician  and  half  philosopher  ; 
nor  can  we  fail  to   mark  the  unmistakable    trait  of  the 
schoolmaster.     He   betrayed  his   pedagogic   habit   by  his 
dogmatic  tone  of  complacent  self-confidence  as  well  as  by 
his   anxiety  to   subdivide  and   to    define  when  new  ideas 
were  introduced.    The  deliberate  though  successful  attempt 
to  attain  to  a  rhythmic  euphony  of  style  reminds  us  that 
the  ornate  diction  had  but  lately  been  released  from  the 
fetters    of    verse.     At    the    same    time    the    scrupulously 
regular  structure  of  the  sentences,  the  timid  separation  of 
the    whole    into   small    sections,  and   the   prominent  relief 
given  to  emphatic  words  and  thoughts  likewise  testify  to 
the   infancy  of  the   art  of  prose.     The   treatise,  with    its 
wealth  of   ideas  and  its  ambitious  eloquence,  serves  us  as 
a   test   by  which  to   measure   the  enthusiasm  which  was 
aroused   by  the    new   kind   of  style,  and   we   realize   the 
powerful  influence  it  exerted  on  contemporary  minds.    Nor 
can   we  fail  to   perceive  the  weaknesses  and  shadows  it 
displayed,  thus  affording  so  many  weapons  to  the  enemy. 
No   refined  ear   could    endure   the   emphatic  tone  of  the 


PRO  Die  us   OF  CEOS.  425 

rhetorician,  and  the  blatant  self-consciousness  with  which 
he  displayed  his  own  wisdom  and  learning,  just  as 
Xenophanes  the  rhapsodist  had  plumed  himself  on  his 
wisdom  in  his  own  day.*  The  unbridled  sweep  of  language 
over  the  shallows  of  thought  was  little  calculated  to 
guarantee  trustworthiness  and  consistency  of  argument. 
Nor  would  a  taste  for  surprises  and  a  preference  for  the 
terminology  of  polemics  escape  the  suspicion  of  a  striving 
after  effect.  In  general  it  may  be  said  that  the  rhetorical 
style,  with  its  somewhat  rigid  forms,  its  stiff  regularity,  and 
its  glaring  colour-effects,  was  a  reminiscence  of  archaic 
sculpture,  and  as  such  it  was  foredoomed  to  decay.  It 
could  not  but  create  the  impression  of  a  coldness  and 
pettiness,  in  comparison  with  the  richer  and  more 
harmonious  language,  with  the  freer  gait  and  more  plastic 
power  of  the  prose  of  Plato  and,  to  some  extent,  of 
Isocrates. 

4.  Here,  however,  a  warning  is  required.  Among  the 
features  referred  to  in  the  foregoing  description  there  is 
certainly  more  than  one  which  is  purely  individual,  and 
we  should  fall  into  the  error  of  undue  generalization  if  we 
were  to  regard  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art "  as  throughout 
a  type  of  its  kind.  The  generalization  would  be  yet 
more  illicit  if  we  were  to  extend  it  to  the  important 
thoughts,  to  which  we  shall  have  occasion  to  revert,  which 
the  treatise  contains.  For  the  sophists  were  so  distinct  in 
the  details  and  in  the  spirit  of  their  teaching  that  it  is  rather 
from  habit  than  from  conviction  that  we  are  induced  to 
discuss  them  together.  We  would  certainly  guard  against 
the  false  impression  that  they  formed  a  separate  class 
or  school  in  the  history  of  Greek  philosophy. 

Prodicus  of  Ceos  was  sent  as  his  countrymen's  ambas- 
sador to  Athens,  where  he  obtained  considerable  influence. 
A  distinct  position  is  frequently  created  for  him  under  the 
title  of  "  the  precursor  of  Socrates,"  with  whom  he  was 
certainly  bound  in  ties  of  personal  friendship.  Plato, 
however,  tarred  him  with  the  same  brush  as  the  rest  of 
his  professional  brethren.  The  "  all-wise  "  Prodicus  was 
*  Cp.  Bk.  II.  Ch.  I.  §  I. 


426  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  constant  butt  of  the  searching  and  somewhat  coarse 
satire  in  which  the  early  Dialogues  delighted,  nor  was  he 
exempt  from  attack  on  the  part  of  the  comic  writers.  In 
the  "  Broilers  "  of  Aristophanes,  for  example,  the  follow- 
ing distich  occurred  : — 

"  Though  he  escaped  corruption  by  a  book, 
'Twas  done  by  Prodicus,  the  babbling  brook." 

In  the  same  way  yEschines  the  Socratic,  in  his  dialogue 
"  Callias,"  joined  the  two  "  sophists  Anaxagoras  and 
Prodicus" — a  remarkable  combination — in  a  common  in- 
dictment, and  Prodicus  was  reproached  with  having  edu- 
cated Theramenes  the  opportunist,  who,  though  frequently 
charged  with  being  unprincipled,  was  regarded  by  Aristotle, 
as  we  have  lately  learnt,  as  a  highly  reputable  politician. 
We  cannot  help  being  startled  at  these  remarks  of  ^schines, 
so  striking  is  the  parallel  with  the  experience  of  Socrates. 
He  too  was  charged  with  the  corruption  of  youth,  by  the 
comic  writers  in  the  first  instance,  and  he  too  was  confronted 
with  the  living  results  of  his  education,  Alcibiades  and 
Critias.  But  neither  the  parallel  with  Socrates,  nor  the 
mention  of  the  great  name  of  Anaxagoras  in  the  same 
breath,  availed  to  save  the  memory  of  Prodicus.  His 
salvation  was  rather  due  to  the  notable  circumstance  that 
other  and  impartial  witnesses  were  ranged  in  his  defence, 
and  that  their  testimony  conflicted  with  that  of  the  phi- 
losopher and  the  playwright,  who  paid,  by  the  way,  in 
another  passage  a  marked  compliment  to  the  wisdom  of 
the  sophist. 

Prodicus  was  a  man  of  very  earnest  character,  who 
has  exercised  a  very  considerable  influence  on  posterity, 
mainly  through  the  intervention  of  Cynics.  We  are  no 
longer  able  to  measure  his  achievements  in  nature-philo- 
sophy. The  titles  only  of  two  books  have  come  down 
to  us  on  that  side  of  his  scientific  labours — "  On  Nature  " 
and  "  On  the  Nature  of  Man  "  respectively.  The  little  we 
know  of  another  branch  of  learning  to  which  his  activities 
were  directed  is  derived  almost  entirely  from  some  satirical 
references  in  Plato.     From  these  we  learn  that  he  attempted 


THE   SYNONYMICS    OF  PRODI CUS.  427 

to  deal  with  synonymy — to  collect  and  to  compare,  that  is 
to  say,  words  of  kindred  meaning  and  to  distinguish  their 
shades  of  signification.  But  when  we  ask  what  motive  led 
him  to  that  work  or  what  degree  of  success  he  attained, 
no  answer  can  be  given.  He  may  have  wished  to  create 
an  aid  to  the  art  of  style,  by  which,  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
Thucydides  is  said  to  have  profited,  or  he  may  have  desired 
to  advance  the  cause  of  science  by  a  sharper  demarcation 
of  the  limits  of  ideas,  or  he  may  have  aimed  at  both  these 
ends  at  once.  One  fact  only  can  be  positively  asserted — 
that  in  undertaking  this  work  he  was  supplying  a  real 
demand.  The  speculations  on  language  had  followed  the 
cosmic  theories  to  the  tablelands  of  science,  where  they 
were  confronted  by  problems  which  were  practically 
insoluble,  at  least  for  the  age  we  are  dealing  with.  It 
was  a  wholly  meritorious  achievement  to  bring  them  down 
from  the  heights  and  to  substitute  an  inquiry  into  the 
material  and  forms  of  contemporary  speech  for  the  investi- 
gation of  the  origin  of  language.  [We  shall  find  that  Prota- 
goras was  busy  with  an  analysis  of  the  forms  of  speech,  while 
Prodicus  was  the  first  to  submit  its  material  to  the  methods 
of  scientific  study.  In  this  connection  it  is  a  matter  of 
indifference  whether  or  not  his  labours  contributed  to  the 
artistic  use  of  language  :  they  must  at  least  have  helped 
to  perfect  it  as  an  instrument  of  thought]  We  may  even 
sincerely  regret  that  his  example  was  not  more  assiduously 
followed.  Our  consideration  of  the  Elcatic  doctrines  has 
already  served  to  show  us  how  rich  a  source  of  error  was 
contained  in  the  ambiguity  of  words,  and  in  the  absence  of 
clear  definitions  of  the  ideas  expressed  by  them.  If  the  road 
opened  by  Prodicus  had  been  followed  by  more  numerous 
successors,  many  of  the  mistakes  from  which  the  Platonic 
writings  themselves  are  by  no  means  wholly  exemi)t  might 
well  have  been  avoided,  and  the  harvest  of  a  priori  pseudo- 
demonstrations  and  of  eristic  fallacies  would  certainly  have 
been  far  less  abundant. 

We  are  much  more  accurately  informed  about  the 
views  of  Prodicus  on  moral  philosophy.  His  melancholy 
view  of  life  may  fairly  entitle  him  to  the  description   of 


428  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  earliest  of  the  pessimists.  Euripides,  speaking  of  the 
man  who  made  the  evils  of  life  turn  the  scale  of  its 
blessings,  had  Prodicus  in  his  mind.  We  cannot  determine 
at  this  date  how  far  his  weakly  constitution  was  answer- 
able for  his  gloom,  nor  how  far  it  was  due  to  the  inherited 
character  of  his  countrymen,  the  inhabitants  of  Ceos — an 
island  where  suicide  was  of  more  frequent  occurrence  than 
in  any  other  part  of  Greece.  But  whatever  the  cause 
may  have  been,  the  effect  was  always  the  same.  A  pro- 
found emotion  shook  the  ranks  of  his  audience  when 
they  heard  his  deep  voice,  that  came  with  so  strange 
a  sound  from  the  frail  body  that  contained  it.  Now  he 
would  describe  the  hardships  of  human  existence  ;  now  he 
would  recount  all  the  ages  of  man,  beginning  with  the 
new-born  child,  who  greets  his  new  home  with  wailing, 
and  tracing  his  course  to  the  second  childhood  and  the 
grey  hairs  of  old  age.  Again  he  would  rail  at  death  as 
a  stony-hearted  creditor,  wringing  his  pledges  one  by  one 
from  his  tardy  debtor,  first  his  hearing,  then  his 
sight,  and  next  the  free  movement  of  his  limbs.  At 
another  time,  anticipating  Epicurus,  he  sought  to  arm  his 
disciples  against  the  horrors  of  death  by  explaining  that 
death  concerned  neither  the  living  nor  the  dead.  As 
long  as  we  live,  death  does  not  exist  ;  as  soon  as  we  die, 
we  ourselves  exist  no  longer.  Nor  were  occasions  wanting 
for  enheartening  reminders  of  this  kind.  For  the  pessimistic 
wisdom  of  Prodicus  did  not  find  its  goal  in  a  mere  mute 
resignation,  nor  in  an  ascetic  retreat  from  the  world  ; 
still  less  was  it  satisfied  with  the  advice  to  gather  from 
the  troubled  waters  of  human  life  as  many  pearls  of 
pleasure  as  possible.  \iHigher  than  pleasure  Prodicus 
exalted  work,  and  his  practice  agreed  with  his  theory. 
He  was  famous  in  antiquity  among  the  few  who,  despite 
their  physical  infirmities,  had  completely  fulfilled  their 
civic  duties.j[  He  was  frequently  sent  on  ambassadorial 
missions  on  behalf  of  his  native  island.  His  hero  and 
model  was  Hercules,  the  type  of  manly  strength  and 
wholesome  activity,  and  the  fact  that  he  took  as  his 
patron-saint  the  ancestor  of  the  Lacedaemonian  kings  may 


HIS  IDEALS   AND   ETHICS.  429 

have  contributed  to  the  honourable  welcome  which  he 
received  in  Sparta,  where  foreigners,  and,  above  all,  foreign 
teachers  of  wisdom,  were  otherwise  so  severely  discouraged. 
Every  one  is  acquainted  with  the  fable  of  "  Hercules  at  the 
parting  of  the  ways."  Clt  is  a  masterpiece  of  admonitory 
eloquence  in  imitation  oT  the  Sophoclean  fable  of  the  strife 
between  Athene  and  Aphrodite  in  the  "  Judgment  of 
Paris,"  and  it  became  in  its  turn  an  example  for  all 
antiquity.  Its  influence  continued  till  early  Christian 
times,  when  its  echoes  may  be  heard  in  literature  in  the 
"  Shepherd  of  Hermas "  and  elsewhere.  The  work  to 
which  this  fable  of  Hercules  belonged  was  entitled  "  The 
Seasons."  The  rest  of  its  contents  is  unfortunately  un- 
known to  us.  Perhaps  it  contained  the  pessimistic  utter- 
ances we  have  mentioned  just  now ;  perhaps,  too,  as 
a  counterpart  to  these,  it  sang  the  praises  of  the  whole- 
some pleasures  least  open  to  abuse,  such  as  the  joy 
in  nature  and  her  works  which  our  philosopher  could 
hardly  have  omitted  in  the  eulogy  of  agriculture  that  is 
ascribed  to  him.  Thus,  then,  we  have  been  able  to 
construct  no  uncertain  outline  of  the  views  of  Prodicus 
and  of  his  ideal  of  life.  He  had  drained  the  dregs  of 
human  bitterness,  and  he  resisted  the  effects  of  that 
draught  by  exalting  the  virtue  of  manly  valour.  It  was 
to  expect  but  little  from  passive  enjoyment,  but  was  rather 
to  look  for  satisfaction  to  the  exercise  of  its  own  strong 
powers,  combined  with  a  preference  for  simple  manners 
and  plain  living.  Nor  was  Prodicus  merely  the  eloquent 
preacher  of  a  partially  new  ideal.  The  subtle  intellect 
betrayed  in  his  disquisitions  "On  Correct  Language"  was 
not  wanting  in  his  ethical  studies.  He  introduced  a  con- 
ception in  moral  philosophy  which  played  an  imj)ortant 
part  in  the  school  of  the  Cynics,  and  in  that  of  the  Stoics, 
their  successors.  It  was  the  conception  of  objects  in- 
different in  themselves,  on  which  a  value  was  impressed 
only  by  the  right  use  to  which  they  were  put  if  the  dictates 
of  reason  were  obeyed.  In  this  class  of  objects  he  reckoned 
riches,  and  most  of  what  we  call  external  goods.  We 
shall   presently   have    occasion   to   remark   how  nearly   he 


430  GREEK    THINKERS. 

approached  in  this  connection  to  the  teachings  of  Socrates. 
Meantime,  we  have  still  to  consider  one  doctrine  of  the 
sage  of  Ceos — his  speculation  on  the  origin  of  the  belief 
in  gods.  He  conjectured  that  those  natural  objects  which 
exercise  the  most  lasting  and  beneificent  influence  on 
human  life  were  the  first  to  be  paid  divine  honours. 
Among  these  he  counted  the  sun,  the  moon,  the  rivers 
(reminding  his  readers  at  that  point  of  the  Egyptian 
worship  of  the  Nile),  and  he  added  to  the  list  the  fruits  of 
the  field,  at  which  point  he  might  have  mentioned  certain 
Babylonian  customs.  Next  to  these  natural  objects  he 
reckoned  the  heroes  of  civilization  who  were  deified  by 
mankind  in  grateful  recognition  of  their  important  and 
beneficial  inventions.  On  this  theory  Dionysus  would  at 
one  time  have  been  a  man,  an  argument  which  tallies 
with  the  phrase  of  John  Henry  Voss  in  our  own  century  * 
about  "the  deified  inventor  of  wine."  It  is  to  be  noted 
that  Prodicus,  though  by  no  means  completely  on  the 
right  road,  succeeded  at  least  in  exposing  the  fetishistic 
among  the  roots  of  religious  conceptions.  And  if  it  be  asked 
whether  he  assumed  that  a  real  objective  basis  was  at  the 
back  of  those  conceptions,  or  that  the  reality  of  the 
Divine  was  to  be  repudiated  once  for  all,  we  may  safely 
reply  that  the  first  supposition  is  correct.  Otherwise  it 
would  be  inexplicable  that  a  man  of  such  orthodox 
tendencies  as  Xenophon  should  have  spoken  of  Prodicus 
with  unfailing  honour  and  respect,  and  that  Perszeus,  a 
famous  representative  of  the  Stoics  and  the  favourite 
pupil  of  Zeno,  the  founder  of  that  rigidly  Pantheistic 
school,  should  have  expressed  his  approval  of  these 
tenets  of  Prodicus,  in  his  book  "  On  the  Gods."  We  are 
accordingly  impelled  to  the  opinion  that  the  edge  of 
the  polemic  in  that  explanatory  attempt  was  aimed  at 
the  gods  of  popular  belief,  and  was  not  intended  to 
divest  the  universe  of  all  that  it  contained  of  divinity. 

5.  We  have  seen  that  Prodicus  was  occupied  with 
studies  in  nature  and  language,  with  problems  of  moral 
philosophy,  and  with   the  history  of  religion.     When  we 

*  1834. 


HIP  PI  AS   OF  ELIS.  431 

reach  the  name  of  Hippias,  however,  we  find  that  Prodicus 
was  greatly  surpassed  in  versatiUty  of  talents  and  employ- 
ments. The  kaleidoscopic  genius  of  Hippias  was  applied  to 
all  the  arts  in  turn.  He  was  astronomer,  geometer,  arithme- 
tician ;  he  wrote  on  phonetics,  rhythm,  and  music ;  he 
discussed  the  theories  of  sculpture  and  painting  ;  he  was 
at  once  mythologist  and  ethnologist,  and  a  student  of 
chronology  and  mnemonics.  Moreover,  he  was  the  author 
of  moral  admonitions,  and  he  had  acted  in  the  capacity  of 
ambassador  on  behalf  of  his  native  city,  Elis,  in  the 
Peloponnesus.  Nor  does  this  exhaust  the  sum  of  his 
achievements.  Poetical  works  of  the  most  diverse  kinds 
— epics,  tragedies,  epigrams,  and  dithyrambs — flowed  con- 
tinuously from  his  pen.  Finally,  he  had  mastered  most 
of  the  industrial  arts.  On  one  occasion  he  appeared 
at  the  Olympic  gathering  in  garments  every  part  of 
which,  from  the  sandals  on  his  feet  to  the  plaited  girdle 
round  his  waist,  and  the  very  rings  on  his  fingers,  had 
been  manufactured  by  his  own  hand.  We  children  of 
this  generation,  who  have  carried  the  principle  of  the 
division  of  labour  to  extremes,  are  hardly  able  to  take  in 
serious  account  a  Jack-of-all-trades  of  this  kind.  But 
previous  ages  have  felt  and  judged  differently.  There 
have  been  times  when  the  man  counted  for  much  more 
than  his  work,  when  the  necessary  dissipation  of  forces 
entailed  did  not  seem  too  heavy  a  price  to  pay  for  giving 
full  play  to  personality,  for  the  complete  development 
of  our  slumbering  powers,  the  consciousness  of  being 
equal  to  almost  any  task,  and  of  being  helpless  before  no 
difficulty,  and  for  the  ambition  and  ability  to  master 
every  kind  of  employment.  Thus  men  thought  in  the 
age  of  Pericles,  and  thus  too  in  the  Italian  Renaissance. 
In  the  last-named  era,  indeed,  we  meet  an  exact  counter- 
part to  Hippias.  Leone  Battista  Alberti  of  Venice,  who 
lived  from  1404  to  1472,  was  equally  brilliant  as  architect, 
painter,  musician,  prose-writer,  and  poet,  in  the  Italian  as 
well  as  in  the  Latin  tongue.  He  discussed  the  theory  of 
domestic  economy  in  the  intervals  of  his  studies  on  the 
plastic  arts  ;  he  was  renowned  among  the  wits  of  his  age, 


432  GREEK   THINKERS. 

and  he  bore  himself  like  a  master  among  the  gym- 
nasts. Finally,  he  had  acquainted  himself  with  "  all  the 
industries  of  the  world"  by  questioning  "craftsmen  of 
every  kind,  even  down  to  the  shoemaker,  on  their  secrets 
and  experiences." 

It  is  obvious  that  the  value  of  these  various  achievements 
could  not  possibly  be  uniformly  excellent.  The  poems  of 
Hippias  have  disappeared  without  a  trace,  not  altogether, 
we  may  presume,  to  the  loss  of  the  poet.  He  made  no 
mean  contributions  to  the  progress  of  geometry.  His  system 
of  mnemonics,  in  which  the  poet  Simonides  was  his  sole 
precursor,  is  said  to  have  produced  remarkable  results. 
By  its  aid  he  was  enabled,  even  as  an  old  man,  to  repeat 
fifty  proper  names  which  he  had  heard  for  the  first  time 
without  omitting  or  misplacing  a  single  one.  His  chrono- 
logical work  was  a  "  List  of  the  Olympic  Victors,"  which 
undoubtedly  supplied  an  urgent  demand  of  the  age,  with 
its  deficient  historiographical  resources,  and  which  was 
supplemented  by  kindred  attempts,  such  as  the  history 
of  Hellanicus,  with  its  divisions  corresponding  to  the  suc- 
cession of  the  priestesses  of  Hera  at  Argos.  Plutarch, 
we  are  bound  to  add,  disputed  the  trustworthiness  of  the 
lists  compiled  by  Hippias,  and  we  are  unable  to  deter- 
mine how  far,  if  at  all,  the  criticism  was  deserved. 
Except  for  an  insignificant  fragment,  we  possess  no 
remains  of  his  "  Collection  "  of  memorable  events,  save 
only  the  brief  preface,  which  affords  us  pleasing  evidence 
of  the  grace  of  his  style,  and  by  no  means  justifies  the 
reproach  of  a  pompous  self-conceit  which  has  been  levelled 
at  Hippias  in  consequence  of  Plato's  satire.  The  Hippias 
of  that  prologue  is  a  wholly  unpretentious  compiler,  whose 
aim  it  was  to  select  the  most  important  information  from 
the  narratives  of  poets  and  prosewriters,  whether  Greek  or 
barbarian,  and  to  arrange  them  in  homogeneous  groups, 
without  advancing  any  other  claim  whatsoever  to  origi- 
nality or  versatility  as  an  historian.  His  work,  destined 
as  it  was  for  entertainment  rather  than  for  instruction, 
afforded  but  a  slight  handle  for  critical  acumen.  Yet 
many  valuable  remarks  were  scattered  through  its  pages. 


THE  ''TROJAN  DIALOGUES  433 

Accident,  for  instance,  has  preserved  for  us  the  philo- 
logical memorandum  that  the  word  "tyrant"  {rvfmvvoq) 
occurred  for  the  first  time  in  the  poems  of  Archilochus, 
Of  the  work  of  Hippias  "  On  National  Names "  we 
know  extremely  little,  but  the  little  itself  would  suffice  to 
show  that  this  versatile  and  busy  sophist  did  not  shrink 
from  labour  of  a  dry-as-dust  kind.  We  may  conjecture 
that  his  studies  of  the  habits  and  traditions  of  the  most 
diverse  peoples  may  have  caused  Hippias  to  attribute  such 
considerable  importance  to  the  distinction  between  nature 
and  convention  which  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
discuss.*  Further,  we  may  remark  as  a  proof  of  the 
above-mentioned  leanings  to  cosmopolitanism,  that 
Hippias  the  sophist  employed  non-Hellenic  sources  of 
history  and  devoted  himself  to  the  annals  of  barbarian 
tribes  with  equal  impartiality.  His  life's  ideal,  which  he 
shared  with  the  Cynics  whom  he  had  influenced,  was  "  self- 
sufficiency  "  (avTapKtta).  Unluckily,  we  possess  no  remains  of 
his  ethical  discourses.  His  c/ief  cVcciivre  in  this  field  was 
a  duologue,  the  scene  of  which  was  fallen  Troy,  and  the 
persons  of  which  were  Nestor,  the  old  man  eloquent,  and 
Neoptolemus,  the  son  of  Achilles.  In  this  "  Trojan  Dia- 
logue," as  it  is  called,  probably  the  earliest  instance  of  its 
kind,  the  venerable  greybeard  prince  imparted  a  wealth  of 
wise  and  noble  counsel  to  the  youthful,  ambitious  heir  of  the 
bravest  of  the  Greeks,  and  sketched  out  for  him  a  rule  of 
life.  Another  of  the  moralist's  themes  was  a  comparison 
between  Achilles  and  Ulysses,  in  which  the  i)alm  was 
bestowed  on  the  first-named  on  account  of  his  greater  love 
for  truth,  a  virtue  which  the  Greeks  did  not  commonly 
prize  too  highly.  These  and  similar  pieces,  which  were 
composed  by  Hippias  in  a  choice  but  flowing  and  natural 
style,  won  their  author  very  considerable  success  when  he 
recited  them  at  the  great  games  and  in  all  quarters  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Hellas.  He  was  made  a  free- 
man of  a  large  number  of  cities,  and  the  material  rewards 
that  accrued  to  him  were  by  no  means  on  a  small  scale. 
With  Hippias,  as  with   I'rodicus,  it  is  a  significant  feature 

*  15k.  III.  Ch.  I\'.  §6. 
VOL.    I.  2   V 


434  GREEK    THINKERS. 

that  he  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  the  Spartans,  with 
their  old-fashioned  and  home-keeping  ideas,  whom  he 
seems  to  have  delighted  by  his  lectures  on  history  and 
ethics. 

6.  It  is  hardly  legitimate  to  count  Hippias  of  Elis  as 
a  product  of  the  age  of  emancipation,  and  in  the  instance 
of  the   sophist   Antiphon,    such   a   view   would   be   wholly 
inadmissible.      Though    he    is    reckoned    among   the   less 
important  members  of  his  order,  yet  at  one  and  the  same 
time   he    was    not    merely    moralist    and    metaphysician, 
physicist   and    geometer,   but   also    a   soothsayer   and   an 
interpreter   of  dreams.      He   was   the    author   of  a  work 
"  On  Truth,"  consisting  of  two  books,  in  the  fragmentary 
remains  of  the  second   of  which  we   encounter   physical 
teachings  with  a  strong   reminiscence   of  older  doctrines 
of  the  kind.      The  first  book  treated   more  generally  of 
metaphysics   or   the   theory   of  knowledge.      It   was   the 
occasion  for  a  polemic  against  the  hypostasy  or  "  objecti- 
fication"    of   ideas.      We    no   longer    know   at  whom    its 
point  was   directed,   nor   would   it  be  easy  to   determine 
it   to-day.      When  Antiphon  speaks  of  time   as  "a  con- 
ception or  a  measure,  not  a  substance,"  it  is  just  conceiv- 
able   that    he   was   thinking   of   those   mythical    or    half- 
mythical  representations  in  which    Chronos   or   the  time- 
principle  appeared  as  a  primary  being.*     This  expedient, 
however,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  is  incompatible  with 
another    fragment,    in    which    we    read    as    follows :  "  He 
who    recognizes    any    long    objects    neither    sees    length 
with   his   eyes  nor  can  perceive  it  with  his  mind."     The 
idea  of  length  apparently  had  a  typical  meaning  in  that 
instance.     The  true  point   at  issue  was   undoubtedly  the 
substantial    existence    of    general    ideas,    and     Antiphon 
might    fairly    be   called    the   earliest   of   the    nominalists. 
We    hear    of     very    similar    utterances     in     Antisthenes 
and    Theopompus,    who    disputed    the    Platonic    theory 
of  ideas,   but  that   theory  was  not    in   existence    at   the 
time  that   Antiphon,   the   contemporary  of  Socrates,  was 
wielding  his    pen.      We    must    accordingly   abandon    the 
*  Cp.  Bk.  I.  Ch.  II.  §2. 


THE   SOPHIST  ANTIPHON.  435 

search  for  the  actual  adversary  with  whom  Antiphon  was 
fighting.  It  is  enough  to  recollect  that  the  language 
which  expresses  abstractions  by  substantives,  thus  lending 
them  the  semblance  of  objectivity,  has  always  paved  the  way 
for  a  nafve  and  rudimentary  realism,*  in  the  philosophical 
sense  of  the  word,  traces  of  which,  indeed,  are  not  wanting 
in  the  age  we  are  considering.  Among  the  other  lost  works 
of  Antiphon  antiquity  possessed  his  "  Art  of  Consolations," 
from  which  we  trace  the  beginning  of  a  new  and  fertile 
branch  of  letters.  But  the  chief  of  all  his  writings  was  a 
treatise  "  On  Concord."  It  was  renowned  in  anti- 
quity for  its  rich  style,  for  the  even  flow  of  its  diction,  and 
for  the  extraordinary  wealth  of  its  ideas — virtues  which 
can  still  be  traced  in  its  few  fragmentary  remains.  It 
was  a  work  of  practical  philosophy,  in  which  self-seeking, 
and  weak  will,  and  the  sluggishness  which  looks  on  life 
as  though  it  were  a  game  of  chess  that  could  be  renewed 
after  a  defeat,  and  anarchy — "  the  worst  of  human 
evils " — were  mercilessly  flagellated,  while  the  self- 
control  that  is  produced  by  a  thorough  knowledge  of 
the  appetites,  and,  above  all,  the  power  of  education, 
were  warmly  praised  and  brilliantly  delineated. 

The  fragments  of  this  treatise  have  lately  received  a 
considerable  addition  through  a  discovery  as  ingenious  as 
it  is  certain,  and  its  new  pieces  will  be  found  to  teem  with 
passages  of  fruitful  instruction.  They  reveal,  for  instance, 
a  fine  sense  of  human  nature,  as  may  be  seen  from  the 
following  extract :  "  Men  never  wish  to  render  honour  to 
another,  for  they  believe  that  thereby  they  derogate  from 
their  own  respect."  But  it  is  more  important  to  note  that 
in  these  long  connected  fragments  we  possess  our  earliest 
example  of  the  kind  of  moral  instruction  which  was  im- 
parted by  the  sophists.  We  gain  at  last  authoritative 
evidence  for  a  fact  long  ago  perceived  and  expressed  by 
the  more  thoughtful  historians,  though  never  credited  except 
by  isolated  readers.  Thus  Grotc,  about  half  a  century  ago, 
wrote  that  the  sophists  "were  the  regular  teachers  of 
Greek  morality,  neither  above  nor  below  the  standard  of 
*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  III.  §3z«//. 


436  GREEK    THINKERS, 

the  age."  It  is  possible  that  this  generalization  went  a 
little  too  far  and  taxed  the  originality  of  individual  sophists 
too  heavily,  but  on  one  point  at  least  there  should 
never  have  been  any  doubt.  It  was  a  sheer  impossibility 
for  the  sophists,  dependent  as  they  were  on  wide  orders 
of  the  public,  to  promulgate  anti-social  doctrines.  They 
were  far  more  liable  to  the  danger  of  preaching,  if  we 
may  so  express  ourselves,  doctrines  of  a  hyper-social 
tendency,  and  of  subjecting  the  individual  to  the  tyranny 
of  public  opinion  in  perhaps  too  high  a  degree,  or,  not  to 
exaggerate  their  influence,  of  becoming  at  least  the  mouth- 
piece of  opinions  of  that  kind. 

Such,  at  any  rate,  is  the  impression  which  we  derive 
from  the  new  fragments.  We  recognize  there  modes  of 
thought  and  feeling  conceivable  only  in  a  democratic  com- 
munity, and  realized  at  the  present  time  hardly  anywhere 
else  than  in  the  Swiss  Republic  and  in  the  United  States 
of  America.  The  desire  to  conciliate  the  good-will  of  one's 
fellow-citizens,  and  to  take  one's  place  among  them  as  a 
man  of  reputation  and  esteem,  was  manifested  here  with 
exceptional  intensity.  It  is  not  our  business  to  form  a 
judgment  on  the  advantages  and  disadvantages  of  a  social 
condition  of  this  kind,  or  of  the  moral  atmosphere  which 
it  is  calculated  to  engender.  But  it  is  legitimate  to  point 
out  that  the  wholesome  effects  it  exercises  in  the  repression 
of  impulses  for  the  common  hurt,  and  in  stimulating 
enterprises  for  the  common  weal,  must  necessarily  be 
counterbalanced  by  a  danger  of  no  mean  significance.  It 
is  a  danger  which  would  affect  that  domain  of  life  in  which 
multiformity  of  development  and  independence  of  action  are 
indispensable  to  the  success  of  individual  life,  and  tend 
therefore  indirectly  to  promote  the  general  prosperity  of  all. 
It  may  be  conceded  that  individual  liberty  in  the  Athens  of 
the  fifth  century  B.C.  was  far  less  exposed  to  this  risk  at  the 
hands  of  the  tyrannous  majority  than  among  most  other 
peoples  and  in  most  other  times.  In  evidence  of  this,  we 
commend  to  the  attention  of  every  one  who  has  not  yet 
made  acquaintance  with  it  the  funeral  oration  of  Pericles, 
which  Thucydides  has  preserved,  and  which  forms  one  of 


ANTAGOXISM  OF  ANTIPHON  AXD  CALLICLES.     437 

the  most  precious  monuments  to  the  spirit  of  genuine 
freedom  in  the  possession  of  mankind.  Still,  the  new 
fragments  of  Antiphon  bear  witness  to  a  mode  of  thought 
which  submitted  the  individual  once  for  all  to  the  service 
of  the  community,  or  rather,  as  not  a  few  may  have  held, 
which  submitted  him  to  the  servitude  of  collective  medi- 
ocrity. And,  this  being  the  case,  we  are  now  in  a  position 
to  understand  the  protest  and  reaction  of  some  superior 
and  self-conscious  minds.  Speeches  such  as  Plato  put  in 
the  mouth  of  Callicles,  the  sworn  foe  of  the  sophists  and 
the  contemner  of  the  mob,  become  still  more  comprehen- 
sible to  us  than  they  previously  were.  Nay,  in  some  of 
the  expressions  of  the  resurgent  Antiphon,  in  the  bitter 
polemic,  for  instance,  against  the  erroneous  doctrine  that 
obedience  to  the  laws  is  cowardice,  we  seem  to  be  listening 
to  a  protest  against  the  opinions  sustained  by  Callicles  in 
the  "  Gorgias,"  and  incarnated  in  real  life  in  the  persons 
of  a  Critias  and  an  Alcibiades. 

Education,  to  come  back  to  that  topic,  was  promoted 
by  Antiphon  to  the  highest  rank  in  human  affairs.  "Ac- 
cording to  the  seeds,"  he  tells  us,  "  that  are  sown  in  the 
earth,  so  are  the  fruits  that  the  reaper  may  expect.  And 
if  a  noble  disposition  be  planted  in  a  young  mind,  it  will 
engender  a  flower  that  will  endure  to  the  end,  and  that 
no  rain  will  destroy,  nor  will  it  be  withered  by  drought." 
This  paragraph  reminds  us  of  similar  reflections  expressed 
in  like  style  by  Protagoras,  the  chief  and  noblest  of  the 
.sophists.  Our  readers  are  already  accjuainted  with  the 
name  of  this  extraordinary  man,  and  we  have  now  to  try 
to  delineate  his  features  as  fully  and  faithfully  as  our  scanty 
materials  permit. 


43^  GREEK    THINKERS. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

PROTAGORAS   OF   ABDERA. 

I.  Protagoras  was  a  son  of  Abdera,  where  he  breathed 
the  air  of  free  thought.  It  is  hardly  to  be  doubted  that  he 
enjoyed  the  intercourse  of  Leucippus,  his  older  fellow- 
countryman,  and  of  Democritus,  his  younger  contemporary. 
But  the  investigation  of  Nature  did  not  by  any  means 
monopolize  his  interest,  which  was  primarily  directed  to 
human  affairs.  Before  his  thirtieth  year  he  had  adopted 
the  profession,  new  at  that  time,  of  an  itinerant  teacher  or 
sophist.  He  had  paid  repeated  visits  to  Athens,  where  he 
was  honoured  with  the  intimate  friendship  of  Pericles,  and 
stood  in  close  relationship  with  Euripides  and  other  eminent 
men.  As  a  teacher  his  services  were  in  eager  requisition, 
and  his  instruction  centred,  as  we  have  seen,  in  a 
preparation  for  public  life.  It  admitted  excursions  in  every 
direction  :  oratory  and  its  auxiliary  arts,  education,  juris- 
prudence, politics,  and  ethics,  engaged  his  fertile  and  re- 
sourceful mind.  He  was  a  man  of  many-sided  endowments, 
and  was  equally  successful  in  inventing  an  apparatus  for 
the  use  of  porters  as  in  performing  the  task  of  a  legislator. 
He  was  employed  in  the  last-named  capacity  in  the  spring 
of  443,  when  the  colony  of  Thurii  was  founded  by  Athens  in 
the  heart  of  a  fruitful  plain,  close  to  the  ruins  of  Sybaris. 
The  instructions  which  Protagoras  received  from  Pericles 
on  that  occasion  were  probably  to  the  effect  that  he  should 
adapt  the  laws  of  the  "  subtle "  Charondas,  which  were 
current  in  many  parts  of  Lower  Italy,  to  the  peculiar 
conditions  of  the  new  settlement.     And  Protagoras  carried 


PROTAGORAS   IN  ATHENS.  439 

out  his  instructions  by  making  those  laws  yet  more  subtle 
than  they  had  been.  This  political  mission  was  the  summit 
of  his  life  and  work.  Some  of  the  most  illustrious  Greeks 
of  that  age  made  their  home  at  Thurii,  and  others 
were  constantly  passing  through  it,  so  that  Protagoras, 
wandering  through  the  halls  of  the  beautiful  and  regular 
city  built  on  the  plans  of  Hippodamus,  might  converse  one 
day  with  Herodotus  on  questions  of  ethnology,  and  on 
another  with  Empedocles  on  problems  of  natural  science. 
All  the  Greek  tribes  were  represented  in  the  brilliant  life 
of  Thurii,  and  the  division  of  the  citizens  into  ten  pro- 
vinces was  a  proof  of  the  Pan-Hellenic  principle  of  its 
foundation,  which,  in  conjunction  with  its  rapid  and  peace- 
ful rise,  might  be  taken  as  a  happy  omen  for  the  future 
unity  of  Hellas.  But  if  Protagoras  and  his  brother  sophists, 
with  the  rest  of  the  prose-writers  and  poets  who  were  the 
true  vehicles  of  the  national  idea,  were  buoyed  up  by  hopes 
of  this  kind,  they  were  doomed  to  the  bitterest  disappoint- 
ment. Hardly  ten  years  elapsed  before  the  two  leading 
powers,  Athens  and  Sparta,  were  ranged  against  one 
another  in  a  death  struggle.  All  Hellas  was  split  into 
two  hostile  camps.  Protagoras  was  in  Athens  at  the  time 
when  the  fearful  ravages  of  pestilence  were  added  to  the 
horrors  of  war.  He  was  thus  a  witness  of  the  heroism 
displayed  by  his  patron  Pericles  under  the  heaviest 
calamity  : 

"  His  sons,"  wrote  Protagoras,  after  Pericles'  too  early  death, 
"  jierished  within  a  week  in  the  beauty  of  their  youth,  and  he  bore 
it  without  repining.  For  he  clung  to  his  attitude  of  serene  reijose, 
which  permitted  him  every  day  to  enjoy  welfare,  traiuiuillity,  and 
popular  fame,  for  every  man  who  saw  him  bear  his  own  sorrow 
with  strength  would  recognize  that  Pericles  was  noble  and  manly 
and  much  better  than  himself,  seeing  that  he  would  be  found 
wanting  in  a  similar  trial." 

Thus  the  closing  years  of  the  life  of  Protagoras  were 
darkened  by  the  shadows  of  national  misfortune,  in  which 
Athens  was  the  greatest  sufferer,  but  he  was  at  least  spared 
the  burdens  of  extreme  old  age.     For  this  he  was  intlebted 


440  GREEK   THINKERS. 

to  one  of  those  sudden  impulses  of  intolerance  against 
which  the  populace  of  Athens  was  never  sufficiently  proof. 
Protagoras  was  almost  seventy  years  of  age  when,  in 
reliance  on  his  reputation  and  on  the  record  of  an  honour- 
able career,  he  ventured  to  give  undisguised,  though  at  the 
same  time  temperate,  utterance  to  somewhat  more  auda- 
cious ideas  than  usual.  It  is  said  to  have  been  in  the  house 
of  Euripides  that  he  first  had  his  book  "  On  the  Gods  "  re- 
cited, thus  introducing  it  to  publicity  according  to  ancient 
usage.  A  smart  cavalry  officer,  the  wealthy  Pythodorus,  was 
the  self-chosen  instrument  of  the  salvation  of  society.  Pytho- 
dorus was  a  political  malcontent,  who  was  presently  to  take 
part  in  the  conspiracy  of  the  Four  Hundred  against  the 
existing  constitution.  In  the  present  instance  he  was  the 
chief  cause  of  the  prosecution  of  Protagoras  for  impiety. 
The  book  "  On  the  Gods "  was  condemned.  The  copies 
that  had  already  been  published  were  confiscated  and  burnt. 
Protagoras  himself  probably  left  Athens  before  his  convic- 
tion, and  betook  himself  to  Sicily,  but  he  suffered  shipwreck 
on  the  way,  and  found  a  watery  grave,  Euripides,  his  friend, 
dedicated,  if  we  are  not  mistaken,  an  elegy  to  him  in  the 
two  concluding  verses  of  the  chorus  in  the  tragedy  of 
"Palamedes,"  produced  in  the  spring  of  415  B.C.,  "Yea, 
ye  have  killed  her,  the  all-wise  ;  alas  for  the  blameless 
nightingale  of  the  Muses  !  " 

Well  might  the  fate  of  Protagoras,  surnamed  "  Wisdom  " 
itself,  recall  the  memory  of  Palamedes,  Palamedes  the 
inventor,  envied  for  his  wisdom,  the  victim  of  a  hateful 
charge.  But  for  us,  at  least,  it  is  difficult  to  gain  a  clear 
conception  of  the  grounds  on  which  the  contemporary 
admiration  of  Protagoras  rested.  We  seek  them  in  vain 
in  the  fragments,  barely  twenty  lines  long,  the  very  mean- 
ing of  which  is  contested  by  the  commentators.  We 
inquire  for  them  in  vain  from  witnesses  whose  evidence  is 
largely  coloured  by  prejudice,  who  have  bequeathed  to  us 
a  chaotic  collection  of  partly  unwarranted  and  partly  in- 
comprehensible tidings,  preserved  by  the  pen  of  a  positively 
miserable  compiler.  We  review  the  description  of  Plato, 
the  brilliancy  of  which  is  dimmed  by  its  plainly  polemical 


EDUCATION  AND    GRAMMAR.  44 1 

tendency,  and  we  compare  with  that  description  the 
contradictory  Platonic  allusions  in  which  fact  and  infer- 
ence, jest  and  earnest,  mingle  their  diverse  hues.  For 
these,  and  of  this  kind,  are  the  materials  out  of  which  we 
have  to  reconstruct  the  image  of  the  significance  of  Prota- 
goras. 

2.  Protagoras,  in  the  first  instance,  was  a  successful 
and  a  celebrated  teacher.  In  that  capacity  he  had 
reflected  on  the  problem  of  education,  and  his  utterances 
on  that  subject  betoken  a  calm  and  impartial  mind, 
wholly  free  from  prepossessions.  We  read  that  "Teaching 
requires  natural  disposition  and  exercise,  and  must  be 
begun  in  youth,"  that  "Neither  theory  without  practice 
nor  practice  without  theory  avails  at  all,"  and,  again, 
that  "  Culture  does  not  flourish  in  the  soul  unless  one 
reaches  a  great  deepness."  The  last  of  these  fragments, 
selected  from  the  few  that  have  been  preserved  to  us, 
recalls  in  a  striking  degree  a  weighty  maxim  in  the 
gospels.*  As  a  teacher  Protagoras  was  the  first  to 
introduce  grammar  in  his  curriculum,  and  it  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  facts  in  the  history  of  Greek  thought 
that  before  him  there  was  not  the  remotest  attempt  to  dis- 
tinguish the  forms  of  expression  nor  to  analyze  and  reduce 
them  to  principles  of  speech.  It  is  true  that  a  few  of  the 
most  obvious  differences,  such  as  that  between  a  verb  and 
a  noun,  were  known  in  the  uses  of  language,  but  even 
in  respect  to  these  elementary  notions  much  had  to  be 
done  before  their  boundaries  were  sharply  defined  or  their 
names  consistently  employed.  As  to  what  is  meant  by 
an  adverb  or  preposition,  or  the  rules  of  the  moods  and 
tenses,  neither  Pindar  nor  ^Eschylus  had  the  faintest 
conception  of  those  matters.  The  art  of  language  never 
passed  through  its  days  of  apprenticeship.  The  master 
was  born  with  full  powers  before  any  attempts  had  been 
made  to  define  the  rules  of  his  craft.  This  fact  obviously 
contained  a  useful  hint  for  practice.  It  suggested  that 
the  proper  use  of  language  might  be  largely  independent 
of  the  conscious  knowledge  of  its  rules,  and  that  it  might 
*  Matt.  xiii.  5. 


442  GREEK   THINKERS. 

be  neither  necessary  nor  advantageous  to  dazzle  the  brain 
of  a  mere  child  with  the  lights  of  grammatical  and  logical 
abstractions.  But  we  do  not  propose  to  discuss  these 
questions  here.  The  age  of  Protagoras  was  marked  by  a 
great  awakening  of  curiosity,  by  an  attempt  to  co-ordinate 
all  the  material  of  knowledge,  and  by  a  universal  search 
for  causes  and  rules.  Nothing,  then,  was  more  natural  or 
more  just  than  that  the  chief  instrument  of  thought  and 
its  communication  should  have  been  submitted  to  the 
methods  of  philosophy.  So  Protagoras  wrote  his  studies 
in  grammar  in  the  form  of  a  book  "  On  Correct  Speech," 
and  the  title  affords  some  indication  of  the  intention  of 
the  author.  The  sole  really  profitable  road  in  the  study  of 
language — the  historical — was  as  foreign  to  Protagoras  as 
to  the  rest  of  the  ancients.  Still,  the  codification  of  the 
rules  of  speech  aff'orded  a  rich  field  for  labour ;  nor  could 
such  an  undertaking  be  attempted  in  an  age  which  prided 
itself  on  its  reason  without  occasionally  being  accompanied 
by  experiments  in  reform.  The  recognition  of  a  rule  of 
language  led  to  the  inquiry  for  its  cause,  or  rather,  ac- 
cording to  the  view  obtaining  in  that  epoch,  for  the 
intention  of  the  legislator  in  the  sphere  of  language.  Now 
that  intention  was  found  to  be  either  incompletely  or  in- 
consistently carried  out,  and  an  attempt  would  accordingly 
be  made  to  restore  the  work  of  the  legislator  in  its  pristine 
purity  by  removing  the  apparent  exceptions,  much  as  a 
corrupt  manuscript  is  purged  of  the  mistakes  of  copyists. 
It  was  probably  in  this  spirit  that  Protagoras,  whom  we 
have  good  reason  to  regard  as  an  adherent  of  the  "con- 
ventional "  theory  of  language,  approached  the  problems  of 
that  study.  The  knowledge  of  linguistic  rules  resting  on 
observation,  and  the  consequent  instructions  for  the  correct 
use  of  language,  formed  probably  the  chief  contents  of 
his  book.  There  were  added  to  them  a  few  suggestions  for 
linguistic  reforms.  Protagoras  was  the  first  to  distinguish 
the  several  tenses  of  the  verb  and  the  moods  of  predica- 
tion. These  last  he  entitled  the  "  stems  "  of  speech,  with 
wishes,  questions,  answers,  and  commands  as  their  several 
branches,  and  those  four  kinds  of  clauses  were  expressed 


ATTEMPTS   AT  LINGUISTIC   REFORM.         443 

in  his  opinion  by  the  four  moods  of  the  verb  which  we 
call  optative,  conjunctive,  indicative,  and  imperative.  In  one 
instance — the  conjunctive — it  must  be  admitted,  however, 
that  the  identification  was  not  established  without  a  certain 
amount  of  violence.  Protagoras  seems  to  have  gone  chiefly 
to  Homer  for  his  examples  of  these  and  other  rules  of 
speech,  and  for  the  exceptions  which  he  affected  to  find 
to  them.  For  we  cannot  put  it  down  to  mere  chance  that, 
out  of  the  three  excursions  in  grammatical  criticism 
which  have  reached  us  from  the  works  of  Protagoras,  two 
refer  to  the  first  two  words  of  the  first  verse  of  the  Iliad. 
It  may  have  gratified  the  critic  to  add  the  charge  of 
linguistic  inaccuracy  to  the  severe  judgment  which 
Xenophanes  had  passed  on  the  contents  of  that  renowned 
poem.  Thus  he  argued  that  the  imperative  in  "Sing, 
goddess,  the  wrath,"  was  incorrectly  employed,  inasmuch  as 
the  poet,  in  addressing  the  Muse,  would  not  use  a  command, 
but  merely  a  wish  or  a  prayer.  Further,  the  Greek  word 
\xy\viq  {"  wrath  ")  should  in  his  opinion  have  been  masculine, 
and  not  of  the  feminine  gender.  We  cannot  pretend  to 
dogmatize  on  the  meaning  of  this  last  remark. .  It  has 
probably  been  correctly  taken  to  convey  the  opinion  that 
the  passion  of  anger  is  a  manly  rather  than  a  womanly 
characteristic.  It  would,  however,  be  extravagant  to  assume 
that  Protagoras  was  bold  enough  to  undertake  the  whole- 
sale reform  of  the  genders  of  substantives  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  the  Greek  language.  If  he  had 
made  so  audacious  an  attempt,  we  should  certainly  have 
heard  more  about  it  than  an  occasional  reference  in 
Aristotle  to  /aiji'ii-  and  one  other  word. 

The  following  account  is  probably  more  correct.  In 
no  domain  of  language  are  the  traces  of  its  wild  growth 
so  clear  as  in  the  genders  of  impersonal  substantives.  The 
remarkable  fact  that  several  language-groups  regard  the 
inanimate  to  a  large  extent  as  animate,  and  therefore  as 
partly  masculine  and  partly  feminine,  springs  from  the 
same  personifying  impulse  which  we  have  already  seen  at 
work  in  the  beginnings  of  religious  conceptions.*  The 
*  Cp.  Introd.,  §  5. 


444  GREEK   THINKERS. 

impulse  to  personification  proper  was  accompanied  by  a 
sense  of  analogy  of  an  extraordinarily  refined  and  sensitive 
character.  The  moving,  active,  nervous,  sharp,  spare,  and 
hard  were  regarded  as  masculine  ;  the  resting,  passive, 
gentle,  tender,  broad,  and  soft,  as  feminine.  But  opposed 
to  these  analogies  of  sense  were  secondary  analogies  of 
form,  and  the  two  influences  crossed  one  another  at  various 
points.  If  a  substantival  termination  had  once  been  appro- 
priated by  preference  to  either  sex,  a  new  formation  of 
the  same  kind  would  take  the  same  gender,  frequently 
without  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  word.  In  other 
instances,  and  especially  in  times  when  the  creative  force 
of  language  was  still  unbroken,  the  authority  of  the  mean- 
ing would  outweigh  the  authority  of  the  form.  These 
factors  help  to  explain  the  confusing  abundance  of  excep- 
tions to  the  rules  of  gender,  built  partly  on  the  community 
of  sense  and  partly  on  that  of  form,  which  are  the  despair 
of  the  modern  schoolboy.  Now,  Protagoras,  as  a  son  of 
the  age  of  free  thought,  felt  no  restraint  of  piety  in  deal- 
ing with  the  naivete  oi  primitive  man  ;  he  had,  as  we  shall 
find  in  other  instances,  a  strong  sense  for  rational  correctness, 
and  he  was  accordingly  at  pains  to  introduce  occasionally 
something  like  order  in  the  chaotic  condition  of  language. 
The  second  authentic  example  of  the  grammatical  criticism 
of  Protagoras  attached  to  the  word  TrJ/Xrji;,  meaning  a  helmet 
of  war.  This  word,  though  feminine  in  Greek,  he  wished  to 
see  employed  as  masculine.  If  we  search  for  his  reasons 
we  may  probably  reject  the  supposition  that  he  was 
following  a  common  principle  which  would  make  all 
substantives  relating  to  the  manly  arts  of  warfare  of  the 
masculine  gender.  He  was  probably  guided  by  a  less 
general  consideration.  The  termination  -^  is  commonly  a 
sign  of  the  feminine  gender,  but  the  rule  is  by  no  means 
without  exceptions.  And  among  those  exceptions  three 
words  are  found  which  designate  parts  of  the  accoutre- 
ments of  war.  Protagoras,  examining  these  three  words, 
made  that  community  of  meaning  responsible  for  their 
exception,  and  he  wished  accordingly  to  bring  the  fourth 
word    under   the  same   exceptional   legislation.      Further, 


PROTAGORAS'   ETHICAL    WRITINGS.  445 

in  respect  to  the  word  \xnviQ  mentioned  above,  his  criticism 
may  have  been  supported  by  the  observation  that  the 
termination  -iq  is  very  far  from  being  confined  to  sub- 
stantives of  the  feminine  gender.  We  cannot  hope  to 
determine  whether  or  not  a  jest  of  Aristophanes,  which  is 
doubtless  justly  referred  to  our  sophist's  attempts  at  reform, 
was  founded  on  an  actual  fact.  But  if  it  was,  we  see 
that  Protagoras  wished  to  supply  a  defect  in  the  older 
Greek  language  which  used  the  word  corresponding  to  our 
"  cock  "  for  both  sexes  indifferently.  He  wished  to  form  a 
feminine  "cockess,"  much  in  the  same  way  as  we  speak 
of  a  "  lioness  "  and  "  tigress  "  as  well  as  of  a  "  lion  "  and 
"  tiger." 

3.  The  conception  of  correctness  confronts  us  again  as 
a  leading  thought  peculiar  to  Protagoras  in  other  fields  of 
his  activity.  One  of  the  writings  in  which  he  treated  of 
ethics  bore  the  title  "  On  the  Incorrect  Actions  of  Man- 
kind." Another  of  his  works  on  moral  philosophy  was 
called  "  The  Imperative  Speech  " — a  title  which  is  consistent 
with  the  tone  of  dogmatic  certainty  in  which  Plato's  Pro- 
tagoras speaks  in  his  most  characteristic  vein.  We  are 
not  aware  how  he  treated  the  subject  of  ethics,  though  we 
may  presume  that  he  did  not  make  any  very  original 
departure  from  the  common  Greek  type.  And  we  are 
similarly  ignorant  of  the  contents  of  his  treatise  "On  the 
State  "  or  "  On  the  Constitution."  There  he  may  have 
discussed  the  question  of  criminal  law  which  will  shortly 
engage  our  attention,  and  in  which  he  endeavoured  to 
determine  who  "  in  accordance  with  correct  opinion  "  was 
the  truly  guilty  man.  We  are  reminded  at  this  point  of 
the  ridicule  poured  by  Plato  on  the  attempts  of  Protagoras 
to  reduce  all  human  action  and  conduct  to  arts  or  systems 
of  rules,  and  wc  may  recall,  for  the  sake  of  comparison, 
two  sentences  from  the  above-mentioned  treatise  "  On  the 
Art,"  *  which  in  thought  and  expression  is  so  closely  akin 
to  Protagoras.  "  But  is  it  not  Art,"  we  read,  "  when  the 
correct  and  the  incorrect  both  have  their  limits  assigned 
to  them .''  For  I  call  it  non-Art  when  there  is  neither 
♦  Cp.  Bk.  III.  Ch.  V.  §3. 


446  GREEK   THINKERS. 

anything  correct  nor  anything  incorrect."  Here  we  sec 
the  same  powerful  craving  for  rational  insight,  and  the 
rationalization  of  all  departments  of  human  life,  which  we 
have  already  marked  as  a  characteristic  of  the  whole  age, 
which  we  shall  find  in  its  fullest  development  in  the 
doctrines  of  Socrates,  and  which  was  extremely  active 
in  Protagoras  himself.  It  enabled  him  to  drag  the 
creations  of  law,  not  less  than  those  of  language,  before 
the  judgment-seat  of  reason.  We  are  but  slightly  ac- 
quainted with  what  he  achieved  in  that  direction,  but  the 
little  we  know  is  eminently  noteworthy. 

The  gossips  of  Athens  used  to  amuse  themselves  by 
telling  of  a  conversation  protracted  for  many  hours  between 
Pericles,  the  leading  statesman,  and  Protagoras,  the  foreign 
sophist.  Its  theme  seemed  hardly  worthy  of  the  time  and 
interest  of  at  least  the  first  of  the  interlocutors.  One  of 
the  participators  in  the  game  of  throwing  the  spear  had 
unintentionally  killed  a  bystander,  and  Pericles  and  Prota- 
goras were  said  to  have  argued  a  whole  day  long  as  to 
who  was  the  guilty  party.  Was  it  the  deviser  of  the  game, 
or  the  competitor  who  threw  the  spear,  or,  finally,  the 
spear  itself .-'  It  is  this  item  of  the  interrogatory  which 
excites  our  astonishment,  and  tempts  us  to  regard  the  whole 
story,  despite  its  excellent  authority,  as  a  sorry  jest.  But, 
as  a  matter  of  fact,  it  is  precisely  this  problem  of  the  spear 
which  affords  the  key  to  the  whole  matter.  To  our  thinking 
the  conviction  of  inanimate  objects  is  just  as  absurd  as  the 
execution  of  unreasoning  animals.  But  the  ancients  held 
a  different  opinion,  which  did  not  expire  with  the  Greeks. 
Lawsuits  against  animals  were  admitted  in  the  Greek  and 
Roman  codes,  as  well  as  in  the  old  Scandinavian,  the  old 
Persian,  the  Hebraic,  and  the  Slavonic.  Mediaevalism  is 
full  of  them,  and  they  extend  far  across  the  frontier  of 
modern  times.  The  judicial  rolls  of  France  tell  us  of 
bulls  and  swine  who  ended  their  life  on  the  gallows 
in  the  fifteenth,  sixteenth,  and  even  in  the  beginning 
of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  custom  still  flourishes 
in  the  East,  and  the  last  traces  of  it  in  Western  history  are 
found  as  late  as  1793  and  1845  A.D.     The  first-named  date 


THEORY  OF  PUNISHMENT.  447 

refers  to  the  very  time  when  Cambacer^s  was  occupied  in 
elaborating  the  judicial  reform  which  has  found  its  place  in 
the  Code  Napoleon.  If  he  had  attended  the  execution  of 
a  sentence  passed  on  a  dog  by  the  revolutionary  tribunal 
on  the  twenty-seventh  of  Brumaire  in  the  year  II.  at  the 
sign  of  "The  Bull  Fight"  in  Paris,  the  disgust  of  this 
modern  master  of  jurisprudence  could  not  have  been  in  any 
way  greater  than  that  of  the  Greek  sophist  at  Athens, 
who  saw  weapons  and  other  inanimate  objects  which  had 
caused  the  death  of  a  man  convicted,  purified,  and 
solemnly  banished  from  the  country.  It  is  quite  con- 
ceivable, then,  that  the  conversation  in  question  may  have 
grown  out  of  some  spectacle  of  that  kind.  But  it  is  fair 
to  believe  that  it  would  not  have  stopped  there.  It  was 
a  quarrel,  as  Hegel  said,  "about  the  great  and  important 
question  of  responsibility ; "  nay,  we  may  add,  about  the 
yet  greater  and  more  important  question  of  the  purpose  of 
punishment.  Protagoras  was  just  the  man  to  found  on 
that  extreme  case  of  glaring  unreason,  or  "  incorrectness," 
as  he  would  have  said,  familiar  to  every  one  from  such 
proceedings  of  the  tribunal  near  the  Prytaneum,  a  discussion 
which  was  gradually  to  lead  to  an  exalted  goal,  which  was 
to  examine  the  value  and  nature  of  the  existing  criminal 
law,  to  lay  bare  its  chief  bases — the  instinct  of  retaliation, 
and  the  craving  for  atonement — and  thence  to  proceed  to 
the  question  whether  it  were  legitimate  for  such  reasons  to 
afflict  members  of  human  society  with  grievous  suffering, 
and,  finally,  to  seek  for  some  more  tenable  basis  on  which 
to  build  up  a  system  of  criminal  law.  Nor,  when  we  ask 
where  he  found  that  basis,  are  we  reduced  to  mere  guess- 
work. We  may  listen  to  Protagoras  in  the  Platonic  dia- 
logue of  that  name  raising  an  emphatic  protest  against  the 
mere  brutal  retaliation  of  an  injury  done,  and  energetically 
proclaiming  the  deterrent  theory  of  punishment;  and, 
listening  thus,  we  may  fancy  ourselves  once  more  in 
the  chamber  of  Pericles  overhearing  the  earnest  and 
eager  commerce  of  speech,  and  better  fathoming  the 
depths  of  the  argument  than  was  vouchsafed  to  Xanthip- 
pus,  our  authority,  the  degenerate  son    of  Pericles,  or  to 


448  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Stesimbrotus,  the  scavenging  pamphleteer,  to  whom  he 
confided  the  tidings. 

4.  The  question  suggests  itself,  What  was  the  attitude 
of  the  powerful  and  critical  mind  of  Protagoras  towards  the 
problems  of  theology  ?  That  early  literary  aiito-da-fe  which 
it  has  been  our  melancholy  duty  to  report,  has  robbed  us 
of  the  accurate  answer  to  this  question.  One  sentence  alone 
has  been  saved  in  its  entirety  from  the  ruins.  It  was  the 
sentence  which  stood  at  the  beginning  of  the  doomed  book, 
and  which  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  In  respect  to  the  gods,  I  am  unable  to  know  either  that  they 
are  or  that  they  are  not,  for  there  are  many  obstacles  to  such 
knowledge,  above  all  the  obscurity  of  the  matter,  and  the  life  of 
man,  in  that  it  is  so  short." 

We  are  overwhelmed  here  by  a  flood  of  questions.  What, 
we  ask  first,  can  have  been  the  contents  of  the  book,  the 
opening  sentence  of  which  removed  the  subject  it  treated 
from  the  domain  of  human  knowledge,  and  thus,  as  it 
might  seem,  settled  it  out  of  court  ?  We  can  do  nothing 
more  than  take  the  few  words  that  have  been  preserved, 
scrutinize  them  as  closely  as  possible,  and  expatiate  on 
them  as  accurately  as  we  may.  And  the  first  point  that 
strikes  us  is  the  repetition  of  the  word  "know,"  and  the 
emphasis  that  it  derives  from  such  repetition.  For  the 
ancients  distinguished  the  two  conceptions  of  knowledge 
and  belief  in  the  domain  of  which  we  are  speaking,  fully  as 
strictly  as  we  are  wont  to  do  ourselves.  We  need  hardly 
recall  the  definite  distinction  drawn  by  Parmenides,  with 
all  the  consequences  it  entailed,  between  cognition  and 
opinion  which  engaged  our  attention  in  speaking  of  Par- 
menides and  of  his  disciples.  Even  in  the  Greek  vernacular 
we  find  that  religious  convictions,  headed  by  the  assumption 
of  the  existence  of  gods,  were  expressed  by  a  term  iyoyiiCuv) 
which  had  nothing  whatsoever  in  common  with  scientific 
cognition.  We  are  accordingly  impelled  to  follow  the 
valuable  hint  given  by  Christian  August  Lobeck,  and  to 
contend  that  the  subject  of  those  discussions  was  not  the 
belief  in  the  gods,  but  the  cognition  of  the  gods.     Add  to 


COGNITION   OF   THE    GODS   DISPUTED.        449 

this  that  there  are  various  other  circumstances  which  make 
it  in  the  highest  degree  improbable  that  Protagoras  would 
have  consented  to  assail  such  beliefs  or  even  to  call  them 
in  doubt.  In  the  first  place,  Plato  tells  us  of  the  remarkable 
procedure  by  which  the  sophist  was  accustomed  to  settle 
any  quarrel  about  the  amount  of  the  honorarium  owing 
to  him.  If  a  disciple  refused  to  pay  the  fee  demanded  by 
his  teacher  after  the  conclusion  of  the  course,  the  sophist 
would  invite  him  to  declare  on  oath  in  a  temple  the  amount 
at  which  he  himself  estimated  the  value  of  the  instruction 
he  had  received.  And,  secondly,  we  may  quote  the  by  no 
means  negligible  evidence  of  the  manner  in  which  the 
Platonic  Protagoras  described  the  beginnings  of  human 
society.  For  it  is  at  least  extremely  improbable  that  a 
master  of  characterization  like  Plato  should  have  put  a 
legend,  filled  from  beginning  to  end  with  the  gods  and  their 
intervention  in  the  fate  of  mankind,  in  the  mouth  of  a  man 
who,  though  only  at  the  end  of  his  life,  stood  revealed  as 
an  opponent  of  divine  worship.  The  improbability  is 
heightened  by  the  following  sentence,  to  which  Protagoras 
was  made  to  give  expression  : — 

'  Now  man,  having  a  share  of  the  divine  attributes,  was  at  first 
the  only  one  of  the  animals  who  had  any  gods,  because  he  alone 
was  of  their  kindred  ;  and  he  would  raise  altars  and  images  of 
them." 

Thus  everything  leads  us  to  the  conclusion  that  the  Prota- 
gorean  fragment  above  mentioned  did  not  call  in  question 
the  theological  belief,  but  the  scientific  or  reasonable  know- 
ledge of  the  existence  of  the  gods.  Next  we  may  take  the 
Greek  word  which  we  have  rendered  by  "obscurity."  In  the 
original  it  possesses  a  particular  shade  of  meaning  signifying 
the  contrary  of  "  scnsibleness."  In  that  connection  the 
reference  to  the  "obscurity"  as  an  obstacle  to  cognition 
signified  neither  more  nor  less  than  that  the  gods  were 
not  the  objects  of  direct  sense-perception,  liut  in  default 
of  perception  its  place  is  taken  by  inference — a  generali- 
zation not  only  common  to  universal  human  thought, 
but  directly  traceable  in  the  literature  of  the  age  we 
VOL.    I.  2  G 


450  GREEK   THINKERS. 

are  discussing.  Thus  the  warning  as  to  the  shortness 
of  the  life  of  man  could  have  been  inserted  for  no  other 
purpose  than  to  remind  us  that  the  brief  span  of  time  by 
which  our  existence  is  bounded  affords  no  adequate  em- 
pirical material  on  which  to  base  the  requisite  arguments 
for  affirming  or  denying  the  existence  of  gods.  Thus  far 
this  valuable  fragment  may  be  interpreted  with  certainty. 
The  rest  is  conjecture.  We  do  not  know  what  contem- 
porary experiments  Protagoras  had  in  his  mind  to  prove  or 
disprove  the  existence  of  the  gods,  in  order  to  justify  his 
indictment  of  their  inadequacy,  and  to  recommend  in  their 
stead  the  suspension  of  judgment  as  the  one  safe  method 
of  thought ;  nor,  without  that  knowledge,  have  we  any 
trustworthy  ground  for  argument.  All  that  we  can  say  is 
that  Protagoras  replaced  the  confidence  of  Yea  and  Nay 
by  reminding  his  readers  of  the  narrow  limits  of  human 
cognition.  Thus  his  name  marks  an  important  chapter  in 
the  history  of  the  development  of  scientific  thought.  It 
may  well  be  that  he  would  have  assented  to  the  words 
written  down  by  Ernest  Renan  shortly  before  his  death  in 
1892  :  "'We  know  nothing.'  That  is  all  that  can  be  said 
with  certainty  on  what  lies  beyond  the  Finite.  Let  us 
affirm  nothing,  let  us  deny  nothing,  let  us  hope." 

5.  From  theology  to  metaphysics  is  only  a  step.  Here 
again  a  single  sentence  has  to  do  duty  for  a  whole  book. 
The  work  in  question  was  known  by  three  different  titles, 
"  On  Being,"  "  Truth,"  and  "  The  '  Throwing '  Discourses." 
The  third  of  these  titles,  with  its  metaphor  from  wrestling, 
shows  us  that  a  considerable  portion  of  this  treatise  was 
polemical  in  character,  and  we  are  not  wholly  unaware  of 
the  butt  of  the  attack.  According  to  a  late  reader  of  the 
work  in  antiquity,  the  Neo-Platonist  Porphyry,  who  died  not 
long  after  300  A.D.,  Protagoras  directed  the  shafts  of  his 
polemic  against  the  Eleatics.  The  single  sentence  which 
has  been  preserved,  and  which  was  again  the  opening 
sentence  of  the  book,  ran  as  follows  :  "  Man  is  the  measure 
of  all  things,  of  those  which  are,  that  they  are,  and  of  those 
which  are  not,  that  they  are  not."  We  are  struck  at  once 
by  the  resemblance  in  style  between  the  metaphysical  and 


MAN   THE   MEASURE    OF   THINGS.  45 1 

the  theological  fragments,  and  we  are  struck  no  less  by 
their  common  need  of  interpretation.  The  first  thing  to  be 
done  in  this  instance  is  to  determine  what  the  important 
and,  unfortunately,  wholly  isolated  fragment  cannot  be.  It 
cannot  possess  an  ethical  meaning  ;  it  cannot  be  the  shib- 
boleth of  any  moral  subjectivism,  to  which  the  sentence  has 
not  unfrequently  been  turned  in  the  hands  of  popular  expo- 
sitors. Neither  the  text  of  the  utterance  nor  its  point 
directed  against  the  Eleatic  doctrine  of  unity  offers  the 
slightest  handle  to  any  explanation  of  that  kind.  One  fact 
may  be  stated  with  absolute  certainty.  The  phrase  about 
man  as  the  measure  of  things — the  homo-mensura  tenet, 
as  it  has  been  suitably  abbreviated — was  a  contribution 
to  the  theory  of  cognition.  Moreover  "  man,"  as  opposed  to 
the  totality  of  objects,  was  obviously  not  the  individual,  but 
mankind  as  a  whole.  No  unprejudiced  reader  will  require 
to  be  convinced  that  this  is  at  least  the  more  natural  and 
the  more  obvious  meaning.  Goethe,  for  example,  was  a 
reader  of  that  kind.  He  made  but  a  cursory  reference  to 
the  Protagorean  phrase,  but  the  intuitive  instinct  of  his 
genius  was  a  better  guide  to  its  meaning  than  a  thousand 
uninspired  commentators : 

"  We  may  watch  Nature,"  wrote  Goethe,  "  measure  her, 
reckon  her,  weigh  her,  etc.,  as  we  will.  It  is  yet  but  our  measure 
and  weight,  since  man  is  the  measure  of  things." 

We  have  thus  seen  reason  to  favour  the  non-individual 
but  generic  interpretation  of  "  man,"  and  our  preference, 
we  believe,  can  be  turned  to  a  certainty  by  a  strictly 
logical  argument.  Hitherto  the  tradition  of  the  experts, 
which  has  only  recently  been  seriously  shaken,  has  held 
fast  to  the  individualistic  meaning,  the  adherents  of  which, 
in  our  opinion,  must  take  one  or  the  other  of  two  roads 
of  thought,  both  of  which  we  venture  to  characterize  as 
erroneous.  In  the  one  instance  the  facts  may  just  be  brought 
into  harmony  with  the  interpretation,  but  the  grammar 
breaks  down  ;  in  the  other  instance  the  grammar  is  admis- 
sible, but  the  facts  are  not.  Supposing  that  Protagoras 
wished  to  assert  that  the  individual  was  the  measure  of  all 


452  GREEK    THINKERS. 

things,  he  must  have  been  thinking  either  of  the  properties 
or  of  the  existence  of  the  things.  The  first  of  these 
assumptions  is  the  one  which  we  have  called  admissible  on 
the  facts.  For  the  individual  differences  of  sensuous  per- 
ceptions had  already  in  that  age  begun  to  attract  the  atten- 
tion of  philosophers.  But  the  assumption  must  surrender 
unconditionally  to  the  little  Greek  word  cJ^,  which,  in 
common  with  the  large  majority  of  philological  critics, 
we  have  rendered  by  "  that,"  and  not  by  "  how,"  and 
which,  as  numerous  parallel  passages,  among  them  the  frag- 
ment about  the  gods  by  Protagoras  himself,  show  beyond 
dispute,  cannot  possibly  be  rendered  otherwise.  And  we 
might  further  remark,  by  the  way,  that  by  the  contrary 
supposition  the  negative  branch  of  the  sentence — "of 
those  which  are  not,  how  they  are  not " — would  be  devoid 
of  all  reasonable  meaning.  For  no  one  would  ever  have 
been  at  pains  to  inquire  into  the  negative  properties  of 
that  which  was  devoid  of  being.  Thirdly  and  lastly,  the 
appearance  of  this  sentence  at  the  opening  of  the  whole 
book,  the  comprehensive  phrases  in  which  it  is  clothed, 
and  the  importance  which  its  author  plainly  ascribed  to 
it — all  this  is  hardly  compatible  with  the  view  that  it 
was  the  promulgation  of  a  truth  not  unimportant  in 
itself,  but  yet  of  a  subordinate  and  special  character, 
devoted,  that  is  to  say,  to  the  individual  variation  of  the 
sense  perceptions,  honey  tasting  bitter  to  a  man  suffering 
from  jaundice,  and  so  forth.  Coming  next  to  the  second 
species  of  individualistic  meaning,  we  may  refute  it  by 
the  following  simple  consideration.  We  have  only  to  ask 
what  could  be  meant  by  setting  up  the  human  individual 
as  the  criterion  or  standard  for  the  existence  of  objects, 
in  order  to  see  that  it  would  involve  the  complete  jettison 
of  the  doctrine  of  objective  reality.  It  would  be  an 
expression,  and,  parenthetically  remarked,  a  somewhat 
awkward  expression,  for  that  aspect  of  the  theory  of 
knowledge  which  in  modern  times  is  known  as  the 
phenomenalistic,  and  which  was  represented  in  antiquity 
by  that  school  of  Socratics  who  derived  their  name  of 
Cyrenaics   from    their    seat    in    Cyrene,    in  Africa.     It    is 


GENERIC  MEANING   OF   THE    TENET.         453 

the  aspect  in  which  there  is  no  room  either  for  "  objects  " 
or  for  the  conception  of  objective  being  or  for 
existence  at  all,  but  solely  for  subjective  "affections." 
But,  so  far  as  the  teaching  of  Protagoras  is  concerned, 
there  is  internal  as  well  as  external  evidence  to  show 
beyond  the  possibility  of  dispute  that  it  did  not  coincide 
with  that  of  Aristippus  and  the  adherents  of  his  school. 
Let  us  summarize  the  heads  of  our  verdict.  The  famous  and 
much  controverted  fragment  which  opened  "The  'Throwing' 
Discourses"  belongs  to  the  theory  of  cognition.  The  "man" 
it  speaks  of  is  not  this  or  that  specimen  of  the  genus,  not 
any  individual  Tom,  Dick,  or  Harry,  but  universal  man. 
The  sentence  has  a  generic  and  not  an  individual  significance. 
Finally,  man  in  this  sense  is  exalted  to  the  measure,  not 
of  the  properties,  but  of  the  existence  of  the  objects. 
The  evidence  of  Porphyry  in  respect  to  the  polemic 
directed  against  the  Eleatic  doctrine  affords  us  additional 
support  in  the  attitude  we  have  adopted.  It  is  meet, 
in  the  first  place,  to  recall  Melissus,  the  nearest  con- 
temporary of  Protagoras,  and  we  may  account  it  a 
piece  of  luck  that  in  the  "  Thesis  of  Melissus "  we 
meet  the  exact  counterpart  of  the  Protagorean  tenet. 
The  Eleatic  repudiation  of  the  testimony  of  the  senses 
found  a  clear  exponent  in  Melissus  in  the  words,  "  where- 
fore it  ensueth  that  we  neither  see  nor  know  what  is " 
(properly,  the  beings).  This  summary  denial  of  the 
reality  of  the  sensuous  world  is  counterbalanced  in  Pro- 
tagoras by  its  equally  summary  affirmation :  Man  or 
human  nature  is  the  standard  for  the  existence  of  the 
things.  In  other  words,  Only  what  is  real  can  be  per- 
ceived by  us.  The  unreal  cannot  supply  any  object 
to  our  perception.  So  much  for  the  leading  thought 
of  Protagoras,  the  proof  of  which  has  not  been  preserved 
for  us.  The  emphasis  laid  on  the  conception  of  man 
was  doubtless  responsible  for  his  secondary  thought  that 
we  men  cannot  break  through  the  limits  of  our  own 
nature  ;  that  the  truth  attainable  by  us  must  lie  within 
those  limits  ;  that,  if  wc  reject  the  evidence  of  our  per- 
ceptive  faculties,   we    have    no    right    to    confide    in    our 


454  GREEK   THINKERS. 

remaining  faculties ;  and,  above  all,  that  in  such  circum- 
stances there  would  be  no  material  for  cognition  left  over 
for  us.  Nay,  how  should  we  seek  for  a  criterion  of  truth, 
and  what  significance  could  we  ascribe  to  the  words  "true" 
and  "untrue,"  if  we  had  repudiated  root  and  branch 
human  truth,  the  sole  truth  within  our  reach  ? 

In  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art,"  to  which  we  have  more 
than  once  had  occasion  to  refer,  the  doctrine  of  Protagoras 
assumed  a  shape  in  which  it  was  more  closely  related, 
and  accordingly  more  sharply  contrasted,  with  the  doctrine 
of  Melissus.  It  was  promulgated  as  follows :  "  What  is " 
(properly,  the  beings)  "  may  always  be  seen  and  known,  but 
what  is-not "  (properly,  the  non-beings)  "  may  never  be 
either  seen  or  known."  We  can  imagine  the  author  of  the 
treatise  posing  Melissus  with  the  questions,  How  can  objects 
which  we  perceive  be  unreal  ?  and,  How  could  the  unreal 
enter  in  our  field  of  perception  .-*  At  this  point  we  may  go 
back  to  the  words  preceding  the  above  quotation.  We 
read,  quite  literally,  that  "  if  what  is-not  be  equally  percep- 
tible with  what  is,  I  do  not  know  how  any  one  can  regard 
it  as  non-being,  inasmuch  as  it  can  be  seen  with  the  eye 
and  known  by  the  mind  as  being.     But  that  will   not  be 

the  case.    Rather  what  is "  and  here  ensues  the  passage 

which  we  have  already  cited.  It  is  obvious  that  we  are  here 
confronted  with  an  extremely  notable  argument.  A  flash  of 
relativistic  or  phenomenalistic  thought  has  illuminated  the 
author's  mind.  He  holds  fast  by  the  belief  that  something 
perceptible,  some  objective  reality,  corresponds  in  each 
instance  to  our  perception.  But  even  if  that  expectation 
happened  not  to  be  fulfilled,  a  man,  according  to  our 
author,  would  still  have  to  rest  contented  with  what  his 
faculties  of  perception  set  before  his  vision.  If  we  may 
venture  to  complete  his  argument,  he  would  have  said  that 
this  was  the  sole  truth  attainable  by  man,  that  it  was  the 
relative  or  human  truth.  "  But  that  will  not  be  the  case." 
And  here,  accordingly,  our  author  turned  from  the  rela- 
tivistic road,  revealed  to  him  in  a  flash  of  lightning,  back  to 
the  old  and  naive  conception  of  the  world. 

This  rehabilitation  of  the  evidence  of  the  senses  must 


PROTAGORAS   AND   MELISSUS.  455 

have  reversed  the  relations  between  Protagoras  and  the 
natural  philosophers  on  the  one  part,  and  Protagoras  and 
Melissus,  the  "  un-natural  philosopher,"  the  "  stopper-of-the- 
universe,"  on  the  other.  And,  in  point  of  fact,  we  find  in 
the  treatise  "  On  the  Art,"  not  merely,  as  has  just  been 
shown,  the  homo-mensura  tenet,  but  also  the  foundations  of 
a  strictly  empirical  method  and  philosophy.  We  shall 
revert  later  to  these  features,  but  one  remark  will  here  be 
in  place.  There  is  one  scanty  piece  of  testimony  for  the 
fact  that  Protagoras  occupied  himself  with  mathematics,  on 
which,  indeed,  he  wrote  a  book,  and  that  too  makes  it  clear 
that  his  mind  followed  empirical  channels.  The  testimony 
is  found  in  Aristotle,  who  wrote  (in  support  of  his  own 
remark,  "  Lines  sensibly  perceptible  are  not  of  the  kind 
which  the  geometer  supposes,  for  nothing  sensibly  percep- 
tible is  so  curved  or  so  straight ")  that  "  Protagoras,  in  his 
polemic  against  the  geometers,  mentions  that  the  tangent 
does  not  touch  the  circle  at  one  point  only."  Now,  this 
means  neither  more  nor  less  than  that,  to  use  expressions 
employed  by  John  Stuart  Mill,  "  There  exist  no  real  things 
exactly  conformable  to  the  definitions.  There  exist  no 
points  without  magnitude  ;  no  lines  without  breadth,  nor 
perfectly  straight ;  no  circles  with  all  their  radii  exactly 
equal,"  etc.  On  this  point,  however,  there  never  was  any 
conflict  of  opinion  between  the  adherents  of  the  most  diverse 
schools.  The  conflict  began  at  a  later  stage,  when  the 
question  was  asked  whether  the  definitions  of  geometry  were 
derived  from  the  sensible  world,  and  therefore  were  only 
approximately  true,  as  abstractions  adapted  to  serve  the 
ends  of  science,  or  whether  they  were  oi  a  priori  origin  and 
contained  absolute  truth  in  themselves.  Protagoras,  it  is 
hardly  to  be  doubted,  subscribed  to  the  first  of  these 
opinions.  He  may  even  be  regarded  as  its  earliest  mouth- 
piece, and  thus,  as  a  precursor  of  the  thinkers  who,  like 
Sir  John  Leslie,  Sir  John  Herschel,  Mill,  and  Helmholtz 
in  our  own  times,  have  maintained  the  empirical  origin  of 
the  tenets  of  geometry,  its  axioms  as  well  as  its  defi- 
nitions, 

Wc  have  accordingly  established  the   empirical  nature 


456  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  the  Protagorean  method,  and  our  conclusion  is  corro- 
borated by  Plato's  view  of  the  homo-mensura  tenet.  He 
regarded  it  as  wholly  identical  with  the  thesis,  "  Cognition  is 
sense  perception,"  or  all  knowledge  rests  on  such  perception. 
And  this  marks  the  last  legitimate  stage  in  our  employ- 
ment of  the  testimony  of  Plato.  The  reason  for  our  re- 
nouncement is  simple  enough.  Henceforward  Plato's  utter- 
ances on  this  subject  are  not  the  evidence  of  a  witness, 
but  attempts  to  derive  from  the  Protagorean  thesis  con- 
sequences really  or  ostensibly  contained  therein.  Plato 
argued  somewhat  as  follows :  If  the  perceptions  of  sense 
necessarily  contain  truth,  but  the  perception  of  one  indi- 
vidual differs  frequently  from  that  of  another,  then  it  is  fair 
to  infer  from  that  tenet  that  an  equal  measure  of  truth 
belongs  even  to  contradictory  perceptions.  Moreover,  it 
is  probable  that  Protagoras,  like  the  majority  of  his  con- 
temporaries, failed  to  distinguish  with  the  requisite  strict- 
ness between  veritable  perceptions  and  the  conclusions 
derived  from  them,  thus  opening  an  avenue  for  Plato's 
further  deduction  from  the  tenet  of  Protagoras  that  even 
contrary  opinions  possess  the  same  degree  of  truth  ;  in  a 
word,  that  "  what  appears  to  each  man  to  be  true,  is  true 
for  each  man."  Here,  then,  we  are  face  to  face  with 
the  famous  so-called  Protagorean  doctrine,  which  it  would 
be  too  high  an  honour  to  regard  as  the  expression  of 
extreme  subjectivism  or  scepticism.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
it  is  hardly  distinguishable  from  blank  nonsense.  It 
deals  the  death-blow  to  all  orderly  thought,  all  merely 
rational  conduct,  as  well  as  to  all  education,  all  foresight, 
all  science  and  instruction.  And  yet  this  iconoclast,  who 
was  supposed  to  have  destroyed  objective  truth,  and  with  it 
to  have  carried  away  all  rules  of  universal  import,  laboured 
for  more  than  forty  years  in  every  part  of  Greece  as  a 
teacher  highly  esteemed  and  in  great  request,  as  a  celebrated 
rhetorician  and  author ;  he  was  yet  a  lecturer  whose  wealth 
of  positive  tenets  were  not  merely  delivered  from  the  plat- 
form, but  were  pointed  and  inculcated  with  extraordinary 
emphasis,  and  were  promulgated  with  the  force  of  the  pulpit. 
And  it  was  the  same  reputed  iconoclast  who,  as  we  have 


ALLEGED   SCEPTICISM  OF  PROTAGORAS.      457 

seen,  and  as  we  shall  still  have  occasion  to  see,  assumed 
the  functions  of  a  legislator  in  the  most  various  depart- 
ments of  life,  and  whose  distinction  between  the  correct 
and  the  incorrect,  between  the  right  and  the  wrong,  obtained 
in  the  circle  of  his  thought  too  much  rather  than  too  little 
consideration  and  esteem. 

The  reader  may  object  at  this  point  that  we  have 
heard  expressions  of  scepticism  from  the  very  lips  of  our 
sophist  himself;  that  he  published  his  doubts  as  to  the 
existence  of  the  gods  in  language  which  amply  testifies  to 
his  mental  disposition.  Perfectly  true,  we  reply.  And 
it  is  precisely  from  the  fragment  about  the  gods  that 
we  derive  our  final  and  irrefutable  argument  to  prove  that 
the  kind  of  scepticism  which  Plato  read  into  the  homo- 
mensura  tenet  was  completely  alien  to  the  thought  of 
its  author.  For  Protagoras  based  his  suspension  of  judg- 
ment in  that  single  instance  on  grounds  of  fact,  the  roots  of 
which  were  deeply  embedded  in  the  nature  of  the  special 
problem  itself.  Hitherto,  we  may  conceive  him  to  say,  no 
one  has  seen  gods  ;  but  human  life  is  too  short,  and  the 
field  of  our  observation  too  restricted,  to  affirm  or  to  deny 
with  certainty  the  traces  of  their  activity  in  the  world  of 
nature  and  man.  Accordingly  he  withheld  his  verdict ; 
in  respect  to  that  question,  he  framed  no  definite  answer 
either  in  the  positive  or  in  the  negative.  But  if  the 
maxim  that  "  every  man's  truth  is  the  truth  which  appears 
to  him "  had  really  been  the  lodestar  of  his  mind,  his 
answer,  we  take  it,  would  have  been  diff'erent.  In  that 
case  we  conceive  he  must  necessarily  have  expressed  him- 
self to  this  effect :  Gods  exist  for  those  who  believe  in 
them  ;  they  do  not  exist  for  those  who  do  not  believe  in 
them. 

Nor  are  we  reduced  to  the  sophist's  own  sparse  authentic 
utterances  in  order  to  refute  this  misconception.  Plato 
himself  bore  witness  against  it.  In  the  dialogue  entitled 
"  Protagoras "  he  drew  a  picture  of  the  man,  the  main 
features  of  which  are  obviously  genuine,  though  the  colours 
are  in  places  too  glaring,  and  though  we  could  dispense  with 
some  of  the  less  amiable  detail.     But,  as  it  stands,  it  has 


45 8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

nothing  whatsoever  in  common  with  the  sham  portrait  in 
the  "  Theaetetus."  The  same  thinker  appears  in  both 
dialogues,  but  he  is  characterized  in  the  "  Protagoras  "  by 
an  excess  rather  than  a  defect  of  definiteness  and  dogma- 
tism, though  he  is  represented  in  the  "  Theaetetus "  as 
denying  every  distinction  between  truth  and  error.  It  is 
significant,  too,  that  in  the  earlier  of  the  two  dialogues 
Protagoras  is  introduced  as  a  living  man,  while  in  the 
second  and  much  later  study  he  is  mentioned  as  one  long 
since  dead.  In  the  one  the  biographer  is  working  on  the 
memory  of  things  seen,  in  the  other  fancy  is  playing  with 
a  shadow  or  a  phantom.  The  one  is  a  person,  the  other  a 
formula  ;  in  the  one  case  the  author  is  governed  by  intui- 
tion, in  the  other  by  inference.  In  a  word,  the  "  Protagoras  " 
shows  us  a  lifelike  and  finished  portrait ;  the  "  Theaetetus  " 
is  composed  of  superfine  and  thin-spun  ratiocinations.  No 
true  student  of  Plato,  whose  attention  has  been  called  to 
this  contrast,  will  hesitate  at  all  where  to  look  for  historical 
truth,  nor  will  doubt  where  Plato  himself  intended  that 
search  to  be  successful. 

When  we  come  to  discuss  the  "  Theaetetus  "  at  length, 
we  shall  do  our  best  to  illustrate  the  particular  object 
which  its  author  had  in  view,  but  for  the  purpose  of  the 
present  discussion  a  few  preliminary  remarks  will  not  be 
out  of  place.  The  conversational  style  which  Plato 
affected  landed  him  in  a  difficulty  of  a  quite  exceptional 
kind.  He  exalted  his  master  Socrates  to  the  chief  7'dle 
in  his  dialogues.  Nevertheless  he  could  not  and  would 
not  renounce  altogether  the  controversial  discussion  of 
post-Socratic  doctrines.  We  do  not  pretend  that  Plato 
was  particularly  at  pains  to  avoid  anachronisms.  One 
thing,  however,  was  plainly  inadmissible.  Socrates  could 
not  be  armed  for  the  fray  against  the  champions  of  tenets 
which  had  arisen  subsequently  to  his  death.  Now,  in 
order  to  circumvent  this  difficulty,  the  ingenuity  of  the 
poet-philosopher  had  to  cast  around  for  artificial  ex- 
pedients. At  one  time,  for  instance,  his  Socrates  learnt 
of  the  existence  of  a  doctrine  "in  a  dream."  There  was 
no  other  reason  for  this  proceeding  except  that,  inasmuch 


PURPOSE    OF  PLATO'S   "  THEyETETUSy       459 

as  the  doctrine  was  due  to  his  own  pupil  Antisthenes,  he 
could  hardly  have  heard  of  it  through  the  orthodox 
channels  of  information.  Now  let  us  take  the  "  Thcc-etetus  " 
with  its  notable  divergences  from  the  "  Protagoras."  In  the 
"  Theaetetus "  Socrates  is  represented  as  expounding  and 
combating  the  theory  of  cognition  which  is  described  as 
a  "  secret  doctrine "  of  Protagoras,  and  as  very  different 
from  that  which  the  sophist  published  to  "the  great 
multitude."  An  ardent  admirer  of  Protagoras  who  took 
part  in  the  conversation,  and  who  was  at  the  same  time 
intimately  acquainted  with  his  chief  metaphysical  treatise, 
is  plainly  taken  aback  by  the  revelations  of  Socrates.  In 
other  words,  Plato  tells  his  readers,  as  clearly  as  the  con- 
ventions of  his  self-imposed  style  permit,  that  he  is  making 
use  of  a  fiction.  His  real  object  was  to  establish  his 
position  with  regard  to  the  theory  of  knowledge  pro- 
mulgated by  Aristippus.  This  object  has  long  since  been 
recognized,  though  it  has  not  yet  been  universally  acknow- 
ledged. Now,  of  Plato,  the  prince  of  artists,  it  may 
legitimately  be  said  nil  molitur  inepte.  If  this  particular 
fiction  had  not  suited  him,  he  might  readily  have  selected 
another.  Accordingly  we  may  conclude  that  Plato  was 
anxious  to  establish  an  inner  relationship  between  the 
doctrines  of  Aristippus  and  Protagoras.  In  this  light  we 
are  now  able  to  see  that  the  indispensable  preliminary  step 
to  the  whole  transparent  mystification  was  precisely  that 
exposition  of  the  homo-mensura  tenet  which  engaged 
our  attention  above.  It  was  Plato's  deliberate  intention 
to  enter  the  lists  of  the  problem  of  cognition,  and  to 
encounter  its  difficulties  in  his  own  person.  The  introduc- 
tion, for  controversial  purposes,  of  the  doctrine  of 
Aristippus  under  a  shallow  disguise  was  but  a  single  step 
on  this  long  road  of  thought.  The  mention  of  Protagoras 
was  merely  an  artistic  necessity  of  the  fictitious  treatment 
of  the  whole  theme,  and  nothing  was  further  from  the 
original  aim  of  Plato  than  to  write  an  appreciative  memoir 
of  the  historical  personage  to  whom  that  name  appertained. 
These,  then,  being  the  circumstances  of  the  case,  Plato, 
so  far    from    being  hindered,  was  actually  encouraged  to 


460  GREEK   THINKERS. 

dissociate,  as  it  were,  the  Protagorean  tenet  from  its 
author  and  its  environment.  He  was  not  required  to  ask 
what  it  signified  to  its  author,  nor  how  its  author 
employed  it.  On  the  contrary,  he  was  completely  at 
liberty  to  read  into  the  formula  whatever  meaning  its 
wording  would  warrant.  It  would  be  unfair  to  speak  of 
the  violation  of  historical  truth  in  an  instance  where  the 
whole  attitude  of  the  writer  is  directed  towards  the  emanci- 
pation of  his  readers'  minds  from  the  trammels  of  history. 

But  we  have  now  to  reckon  with  a  factor  which  we  did 
not  anticipate.  The  "godlike"  Plato  was  wholly  innocent 
in  intention,  but  in  this  particular  instance,  as  well  as 
in  respect  to  the  so-called  sophists  in  general,  he  perverted 
history  despite  himself  by  the  authority  of  his  mighty 
name.  All  antiquity  accepted  Plato's  interpretation  of  the 
doctrine  as  naked  truth  ;  nor  have  modern  times  been  able 
to  escape  from  his  guidance  till  the  most  recent  past. 
Here  and  there  in  the  references  of  isolated  authors  of 
antiquity  there  are  feeble  traces  of  dissent,  but  the  great 
majority  of  them  never  once  took  the  trouble  seriously  to 
examine  the  text  of  the  tiny  fragment.  Our  surprise  at 
this  omission  is  lessened  by  the  fact  that  Timon,  who  was 
born  just  before  the  dawn  of  the  third  century  B.C.,  did  not 
give  himself  the  pains,  as  his  comic  verses  plainly  show,  to 
gain  even  a  correct  grammatical  acquaintance  with  the 
fragment  of  Protagoras  about  the  gods.  We  have  seen  that 
the  influence  of  Plato  was  responsible  for  a  negative  source 
of  error  in  the  depreciation  and  neglect  of  the  literature  of 
the  sophists,  and  in  this  particular  instance  a  positive 
factor  was  added  by  the  interpretation  put  by  Plato  on  the 
fragment.  To  these  causes  it  was  due  that  no  one  till  very 
recently  had  the  curiosity  to  ask  how  the  gulf  was  to  be  filled 
up  that  yawned  before  the  eyes  of  every  one  between  the 
expositions  in  the  "  Protagoras  "  and  in  the  "  Thesetetus." 
It  was  nobody's  business  to  determine  how  the  sacred 
fragment  and  the  other  sparse  remains  were  compatible 
with  the  universal  scepticism  which  was  ascribed  to  their 
author.  The  suggestion  leaps  to  the  lips — Surely  Aristotle 
was  not  guilty  of  the  widespread  misconception.     We  have 


ARISTOTLE   AND    THE    TENET.  46 1 

to  answer  both  Yes  and  No.  In  two  passages  of  his 
"  Metaphysics "  he  mentions  the  homo-mensura  tenet  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  suggest  that  Plato  in  the  "  Theaetetus," 
and  again  almost  literally  in  the  "  Cratylus,"  was  writing 
with  historical  authority.  But,  in  a  third  passage, 
Aristotle  grapples  with  the  same  subject  again  and  comes 
to  quite  a  different  conclusion.  There  the  "man"  is  not 
the  individual,  but  is  equipped  with  the  qualities  of  his 
kind.  The  individualistic  interpretation  passes  into  the 
generic.  And  the  Protagorean  tenet,  which  is  elsewhere 
regarded  by  Aristotle  as  a  dangerous  paradox  fatal  to  all 
intelligible  argument,  is  here  dismissed  as  a  pretentious 
triviality : 

"  But  if  Protagoras  says,"  we  read,  "  that  man  is  the  measure  of 
all  things,  that  means  that  the  Knowing  or  the  sensibly  Perceiving  is 
the  measure,  inasmuch  as  the  one  possesses  the  sensible  perception, 
and  the  other  the  knowledge,  which  we  describe  as  the  measure 
of  their  objects.  Thus  though  the  doctrine  of  Protagoras  really 
says  nothing  at  all,  it  seems  to  say  goodness  knows  what." 

The  foregoing  attempt  at  an  explanation  may  not  merely 
incur  the  reproach  of  breaking  with  the  tradition  of  nearly  all 
antiquity  ;  it  may  also  be  censured  as  incomplete.  Nor,  we 
are  fain  to  confess,  would  the  rebuke  be  wholly  unmerited. 
There  is  still  much  that  might  be  said  more  or  less  hypo- 
thetically  about  the  attitude  of  Protagoras  towards  the 
problems  of  cognition.  But  we  cannot  think  it  advisable 
to  discuss  questions  of  secondary  import  while  the  dispute 
on  the  leading  question  is  still  unsettled.  A  superstructure 
of  hypothesis  should  only  be  reared  on  a  basis  of  certainty. 
Still,  we  shall  not  deny  ourselves  the  expression  of  just 
one  conjecture.  Many  circumstances  make  it  probable  that 
Protagoras,  in  his  feud  against  the  Eleatics  and  their  re- 
pudiation of  the  testimony  of  the  senses,  pointed  to 
subjective  truth  and  to  the  infallibility,  or  rather  the 
inevitableness,  of  every  sensation.  It  is  further  probable 
that  in  this  connection  he  failed  to  distinguish  with  the 
requisite  degree  of  accuracy  between  sensation,  perception, 
perceptive  judgment,  and  judgment  in  general.     On  these 


462  GREEK   THINKERS. 

accounts  the  reproach  which  he  incurred  of  maintaining 
an  equal  degree  of  truth  in  all  ideas  and  opinions 
may  have  been,  if  not  deserved,  at  least  provoked  by  his 
own  attitude.  The  reproach  may  then  have  contributed 
to  the  false  interpretation  of  the  homo-mensura  tenet. 
But,  be  this  as  it  may,  however  little  we  know  of  the  Pro- 
tagorean  theory  of  cognition,  one  fact  stands  like  a  rock. 
Protagoras  may  or  may  not  have  been  carried  away  by 
the  zest  of  polemic  ;  he  may  or  may  not  have  been  misled 
by  the  incomplete  psychological  vocabulary  of  his  times 
into  uttering  at  some  place  or  on  some  occasion  something 
that  gave  a  handle  to  the  charge  of  scepticism  ;  but  the 
Protagorean  fragments  that  have  come  down  to  us,  few 
and  sparse  though  they  are,  are  in  themselves  fully 
sufficient  to  support  the  belief  that  the  universal  scepticism 
ascribed  to  him  was  never  a  guiding  star  of  his  own 
thought. 

6.  "  On  every  question  there  are  two  speeches,  which 
stand  in  opposition  to  one  another."  This  precious  fragment 
has  likewise  been  pressed  into  the  service  of  the  theory 
against  which  we  have  been  arguing  so  long.  Those  who 
have  turned  it  to  this  use,  however,  have  overlooked  the 
simple  fact  that  if  it  really  possessed  the  meaning  ascribed 
to  it,  and  were  a  corollary  of  the  assertion  that  every 
opinion  is  equally  true,  it  would  have  had  to  refer,  not  to 
two  speeches  only,  but  to  an  infinite  number.  Now,  the 
genuine  meaning  of  the  fragment  may  be  illustrated  from 
its  reproduction  by  Euripides,  the  friend  of  Protagoras,  as 
well  as  by  the  context  in  which  it  recurs  in  Isocrates, 
Amphion,  in  the  "  Antiope  "  of  Euripides,  employs  almost 
the  same  turn  of  expression  : 

"  In  every  matter  can  the  speaker's  art 
Awaken  conflict  by  a  double  tongue." 

And  Isocrates  the  rhetorician  numbers  among  the  use- 
less and  absurd  paradoxes  in  which  a  former  generation 
delighted,  the  contrary  proposition,  that  "  it  is  impossible 
to  make  two  opposite  speeches  on  the  same  subject." 
Accordingly,  it   is   idle  to  look  for  a  sceptical  bias  in  the 


DIDEROT,   MILL,   AND    GOETHE.  463 

statement  of  Protagoras.  It  contains  nothing  more  than 
the  expression  of  a  truism,  familiar  enough  to  modern 
times,  which  Diderot  once  formulated  as  follows  :  "  In  all 
questions,  with  the  single  exception  of  mathematics,  there 
are  a  pro  and  a  con!'  Many  pages  might  be  filled  with 
the  salutary  applications  of  this  dictum.  Thus  the  cen- 
tral thought  of  the  first  half  of  Mill's  "  Liberty  "  has  been 
correctly  defined  as  "  the  necessity  of  taking  account  of 
the  negative  to  every  positive  affirmation  ;  of  laying  down, 
side  by  side  with  every  proposition,  the  counter-proposition" 
And  to  come  down  to  practical  questions,  every  intelligent 
reader  of  Parliamentary  debates  and  newspaper  articles  will 
be  aware  of  the  futility  and  delusiveness  of  a  discussion 
which  is  confined  to  the  illustration  of  one  side  only,  whether 
it  be  the  advantages  or  the  disadvantages  of  a  measure  or 
institution.  He  will  be  aware  that  no  prospect  of  a  salutary 
decision  can  be  opened  to  the  feeble  judgment  of  men 
unless  both  sides  are  treated  with  impartial  completeness 
and  are  weighed  the  one  against  the  other.  The  decisive 
factor,  in  practice  as  well  as  in  theory,  is  not.  to  refer  to 
Mill  once  more — 

"  what  can  be  said  for  an  opinion,  but  whether  more  can  be  said 
for  it  than  against  it.  There  is  no  knowledge,  and  no  assurance 
of  right  belief,  but  with  him  who  can  both  confute  the  opposite 
opinion,  and  successfully  defend  his  own  against  confutation." 

The  principle  described  in  this  passage  as  "  the  principal 
lesson  of  Plato's  writings  "  was  foreshadowed  in  the  dictum 
of  Protagoras  with  which  we  are  now  engaged.  The  great 
sophist  himself,  in  promulgating  his  doctrine,  was  probably 
chiefly  impressed  by  its  educational  value.  He  would  have 
shared  the  sentiment  of  Goethe,  who  eulogized  the  Moham- 
medans for  beginning — 

"  their  course  of  philosophy  with  the  lesson  that  nothing  exists  of 
which  the  contrary  cannot  be  afifirmed.  Thus,"  Goethe  continues, 
"  they  exercise  the  mind  of  youth  by  setting  them  the  task  of  dis- 
covering and  defining  the  contrary  to  every  proposition  in  their 
ken,  whence  there  is  bound  to  proceed  a  high  degree  of  versatility 
in  thinking  and  speaking." 


4^4  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Doubt  is  awakened  by  these  means,  and  from  doubt,  as 
Goethe  put  it,  the  mind  was  led  to  nearer  scrutiny  and 
proof,  with  certainty  as  its  ultimate  goal : 

"  You  see,"  he  says,  at  the  close  of  his  conversation  with  the  faith- 
ful Eckermann,  "  that  nothing  is  wanting  to  this  teaching,  and  that 
we  with  all  our  systems  have  not  arrived  any  further." 

And  when  Goethe  warmly  assented  to  the  remark  of  his 
friend,  that  he  was  "  thereby  reminded  of  the  Greeks,  whose 
method  of  philosophic  instruction  must  have  been  similar," 
we  may  add  that  it  was  precisely  the  Protagorean  "  Anti- 
logies "  which  headed  the  list  of  auxiliaries  to  this  course 
of  instruction. 

Unfortunately,  of  the  two  books  of  the  celebrated  work 
we  possess  not  a  single  line  save  the  short  sentence  quoted 
above,  which  probably  stood  at  the  beginning.  Nor  are 
we  in  better  plight  when  we  come  to  indirect  sources  of 
information.  The  most  important  testimony  we  possess  is 
an  incomplete  report  of  Aristoxenus,  a  philosophic  writer  on 
music,  from  which  we  can  infer,  with  a  moderate  degree  of 
confidence,  that  Plato  based  the  brilliant  dialectic  discussion 
of  the  conception  of  justice  in  the  first  book  of  the  "Republic" 
to  some  extent  on  this  work.  And  even  though  the  report 
be  rejected  as  untrue,  it  is  not  wholly  without  value.  For 
Aristoxenus,  a  disciple  of  Aristotle,  and  a  younger  contem- 
porary of  Plato,  could  not  have  made  himself  its  mouthpiece 
if  the  contents  of  the  "  antilogies,"  which  had  not  yet  passed 
into  oblivion,  were  not  in  agreement  at  various  points  with 
the  Platonic  masterpiece.  The  inference  may  be  stated  in 
the  following  positive  form  :  The  "  antilogies  "  discussed 
problems  of  ethics  and  politics  in  a  dialectic  fashion.  In 
other  words,  Protagoras  was  in  this  respect  a  precursor  of 
Socrates,  and  a  successor  of  Zeno,  "  the  inventor  of  dialectic." 
Furthermore,  the  "cunning  wrestler,"  as  Timon  entitles  him, 
is  associated  by  anecdote  and  tradition  with  "  the  Pala- 
medes  of  the  Eleatics."  Thus  the  argument  of  the  grain  of 
millet,  which  our  readers  will  recollect,  has  been  preserved  in 
the  form  of  a  game  of  question  and  answer  between  Zeno 
and  Protagoras.     Protagoras  defends,  and  Zeno  disputes  in 


THE   DIALECTICS    OF  PROTAGORAS.  465 

a  series  of  captious  questions,  the  evidence  of  the  senses. 
The  Eleatic  accordingly  is  the  active  partner  in  the  dialogue, 
and  the  Abderite  the  passive,  and  this  distribution  of  parts 
tallies  admirably  with  the  dialectic  impotence  of  Protagoras, 
despite  his  renown  as  an  acute  sophist,  when  exposed  in 
Plato  to  the  cross-examinations  of  Socrates.  It  further 
tallies  with  the  fact  that  the  whole  rich  tradition  of 
apophthegms  does  not  credit  Protagoras  with  a  single 
sophism  or  fallacy. 

At  this  point  we  may  sum  up  the  dialectic  art  of 
Protagoras  with  comparative  certainty  in  its  general 
outline.  He  was  evidently  unpractised  in  the  interchange 
of  question  and  answer  which  was  founded  by  Zeno,  and 
developed  by  Socrates,  and  of  which  the  chief  exponents 
were  the  Socratics  of  Megara.  His  own  favourite  dialectic 
was  obviously  of  a  more  rhetorical  kind.  He  did  not  try 
to  confuse  his  antagonist  nor  to  goad  him  to  contradiction 
by  the  method  of  curt  interrogation.  The  chief  weapon 
in  his  armoury  was  that  of  long  speeches  delivered  succes- 
sively to  refute  one  another.  The  prototype  of  these 
rhetorical  tournaments  was  found  in  the  contest  of  speeches 
which  was  fought  in  bitter  earnest  in  the  law  courts  and 
on  the  platform,  and  they  helped  in  turn  to  train  the 
muscles  of  the  intellectual  athletes  in  the  arena  of  public 
life. 

It  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  dramatic  writers  like 
Euripides  derived  part  of  their  strength  from  the  same 
sources.  The  distich  from  the  "  Antiope,"  which  we  quoted 
just  now,  may  well  have  been  a  token  of  gratitude  from 
the  disciple  to  his  master,  l^ut  there  is  another  Greek 
writer  in  whose  work  we  find  the  greatest  variety  of  points 
of  view,  and  who  possessed  an  unrivalled  art  of  sounding 
the  contrasts  of  interests  and  arguments  hidden  in  anv 
situation,  and  of  displaying  them  before  our  eyes  in  all 
their  immeasurable  abundance  ;  and  it  would  have  been 
nothing  less  than  miraculous  if  Thucydides,  the  writer  in 
question,  had  escaped  this  influence.  Nor  was  it  only  that 
philosopher  among  the  historians  whose  strength  was  steeled 
and  tempered  at  this  well-spring  of  inspiration.  Plato  himself 
VOL.    i.  2  Ji 


466  GREEK   THINKERS. 

went  down  to  its  waters  to  drink,  nor  is  it  any  argument  to 
the  contrary  that  one  of  his  latest  dialogues,  the  "Sophistes," 
is  a  thorough-going  invective  against  every  kind  of 
"  antilogy."  Plato  in  his  old  age  grew  averse  from  all 
dialectic.  In  the  "  Laws,"  the  last  product  of  his  pen,  he 
actually  turned  his  back  on  it,  and  filled  its  vacant  place, 
at  the  head  of  his  curriculum  of  education,  with  mathe- 
matics and  astronomy.  Now,  supposing  the  "  Sophistes  " 
were  lost,  we  might  reconstruct  this  portion  of  its  contents 
by  a  kind  of  a  priori  method.  For  before  the  anti-dialectic 
tendency  of  Plato's  mind  attained  its  last  and  highest 
triumph,  it  must  necessarily  have  won  its  victories  where 
it  met  with  less  resistance.  Before  abandoning  his  own 
dialectic,  which  had  served  the  cause  of  his  theory  of  ideas, 
he  must  first  have  dismissed  those  variations  of  it  which 
he  had  less  immediately  at  heart.  He  was  waging  war 
in  that  instance  with  Antisthenes,  but  his  feud  against  the 
Antisthenic  handling  of  the  dialectic  method  was  aggra- 
vated by  his  excursions  into  the  past  to  search  for  the 
origins  of  "  antilogic."  Here  again  we  meet  with  the 
name  of  Protagoras  in  a  context  which  merits  our  serious 
attention. 

7.  The  sophist,  according  to  the  passage  we  are  speaking 
of,  makes  all  who  come  in  contact  with  him,  in  whatever 
department  of  life,  argumentative  and  litigious — in  divine 
affairs  as  well  as  in  earthly,  in  respect  to  development 
and  existence  as  well  as  to  the  laws  and  the  totality  of 
civil  institutions.  "  Further,"  the  speaker  continues,  "  in 
respect  to  all  the  arts  and  to  each  separate  art,  the  seeker 
will  find  abundance  of  material  in  these  writings  for 
attacks  on  every  craftsman."  "  You  refer,"  runs  the 
answer,  "to  the  Protagorean  discussions  on  the  art  of 
wrestling,  and  on  the  other  arts  ?"  "Yes,  my  friend  ;  his 
writings,  and  those  of  many  others  as  well."  This,  then, 
is  all  that  we  know  about  that  branch  of  Protagoras'  work 
as  an  author.  We  see  that  he  had  written  treatises  or 
controversial  speeches  on  the  art  of  wrestling,  and  proba- 
bly on  other  special  arts,  apart  from  his  book  on  the 
arts  as  a  whole.     The  tendency  of  those  writings  cannot 


TREATISE   ''ON   THE   ART''  RECONSIDERED.      467 

be  gathered  from  the  cursory  reference  to  them  in  the 
present  place.  The  hasty  manner  in  which  Plato 
touched  on  the  theme  merely  to  leave  it  again  at  once 
leads  us  to  suppose  that  he  regarded  it  as  but  a  weak 
aid  to  the  argument  he  was  sustaining.  It  is  more 
important  to  remark,  however,  that  the  treatise  "On 
the  Art,"  which  we  have  had  repeated  occasion  to  mention, 
affords  a  specimen  of  that  kind  of  literary  production 
which  is  here  being  spoken  of.  That  treatise,  as  our 
readers  are  aware,  is  an  apology  for  the  art  of  medicine 
written  by  a  pugnacious  sophist.  It  contains  several 
gross  inaccuracies  and  occasional  instances  of  exaggera- 
tion, but  it  is  composed  with  an  extraordinary  degree 
of  dialectic  acuteness  and  rhetorical  cleverness ;  and, 
as  a  defence  of  medicine,  it  succeeds  in  making  the 
difficulties  of  the  art,  and  the  incompetence  of  many 
of  its  practitioners,  rather  than  the  art  itself,  responsible 
for   its   mistakes.      Thus   we   are   told,   for  example,   that 

"  Those  who  blame  the  physicians  for  not  treating  sufferers  from 
incurable  diseases  require  them  to  do  what  is  unsuitable  as  well 
as  what  is  suitable,  and  in  so  far  as  they  make  this  demand  they 
are  admired  by  the  nominal  physicians,  but  are  laughed  at  by  the 
genuine  members  of  the  profession.  For  its  masters  do  not  stand 
in  need  of  such  foolish  praise  or  blame,  but  they  want  critics  who 
will  tell  them  when  their  work  attains  its  goal  and  when  it  falls 
short,  and  whether  in  such  cases  its  deficiencies  are  to  be 
ascribed  to  the  artists  [literally,  the  craftsmen]  themselves,  or  to 
the  objects  of  their  care." 

And  at  the  close  of  the  next  paragraph  we  read — 

"  It  [namely,  the  treatment  of  diseases  open  to  view]  has  not 
been  discovered  for  those  who  want  to  practise  it,  but  for  those  of 
their  number  who  can  practise  it ;  but  those  only  can  whose 
nature  is  not  repugnant,  and  who  have  not  lacked  the  means  of 
training." 

Here  too,  then,  we  perceive  that  there  is  no  lack  of 
censorious  references  to  the  "craftsmen,"  and  that, 
to    this   extent    at    least,   the   one  characteristic  of  those 


468  GREEK   THINKERS. 

controversial  orations  which  is  emphasized  in  the  passage 
in  the  "  Sophistes  "  tallies  more  or  less  with  the  surviv- 
ing example.  But  there  is  another  and  a  more  important 
point.  Reverting  to  the  passage  first  quoted  from  the 
close  of  a  chapter  in  the  treatise,  we  find  that  the 
ensuing  sentence  runs  as  follows  :  "  Now  what  concerns 
the  other  arts,  that  shall  be  taught  at  another  time  and  in 
another  discourse,"  Thus  the  author  held  out  a  promise 
of  a  treatise  to  be  devoted  to  the  remaining  arts,  in  words 
which  precisely  correspond  to  the  language  employed  by 
Plato  in  the  "  Sophistes  "  in  mentioning  the  existence  of 
such  a  treatise  by  Protagoras.  This  consentaneity, 
combined  with  numerous  other  circumstances,  has  induced 
us  to  ascribe  the  authorship  of  the  pseudo-Hippocratic 
little  work  "  On  the  Art "  to  no  other  than  to  Protagoras, 
the  sophist  of  Abdera.  Our  readers  are  already  aware 
that  the  chief  metaphysical  tenet  of  Protagoras  is 
repeated  in  that  treatise,  which  further  contains  a 
reference  to  "  other  discourses,"  perhaps  "  The  '  Throwing  ' 
Discourses,"  with  which  we  have  made  acquaintance,  which 
were  to  illustrate  it  more  accurately.  The  conjectural 
identity  which  we  have  thus  ventured  to  establish  is 
rendered  highly  probable  by  the  fact  that  the  dialect, 
style,  and  tone  of  the  treatise  recall  the  very  epoch, 
surroundings,  and  personality  of  Protagoras  himself, 
down  to  countless  notable  echoes  of  his  peculiar  mode 
of  speaking,  as  imitated  in  Plato.  Additional  evidence 
is  afforded  by  the  following  consideration  :  According  to 
this  very  passage  in  the  "  Sophistes,"  the  separate  arts 
possessed  an  abundant  literature  of  their  own,  and,  so 
far  at  least,  there  would  be  little  to  support  the  identity. 
But  in  both  these  cases,  besides  the  treatment  of  the 
individual  arts,  there  is  in  the  one  instance  a  mention, 
and  in  the  other  a  promise,  of  a  general  discussion. 
Now,  we  may  well  be  startled  at  this  coincidence.  If  it 
were  an  opponent  of  Protagoras  who  was  competing  with 
him  in  this  field  as  well,  we  should  have  less  ground  for 
surprise  ;  but  the  similarity  of  the  metaphysical  principles 
rules  that  hypothesis  out  of  court.     Thus,  if  we  refuse  to 


WAS   PROTAGORAS   ITS   AUTHOR?  469 

adopt  the  theory  of  identic  authorship,  we  are  placed  on 
the  horns  of  a  remarkable  dilemma.  We  must  either 
suppose  that  Protagoras,  who  was  far  from  lacking  in 
originality,  had  adventured  on  this  occasion  on  an  out- 
worn track,  or  else  that  a  sophist,  who  was  closely  allied 
to  him  in  many  respects,  including  questions  of  principle, 
and  was  thus  presumably  his  disciple,  had  undertaken  to 
beat  him  out  of  the  field.  We  do  not  know  how  Prota- 
goras treated  the  separate  arts,  but  we  may  fairly  con- 
jecture that  he  adapted  his  treatment  to  their  differences. 
Thus  the  art  of  medicine  required  that  its  suspect  reality 
should  be  justified  and  vindicated,  but  this  was  by  no 
means  the  case  with  the  manual  arts.  It  had  often  been 
denied  that  the  art  of  the  physician  created  health,  but 
it  had  never  been  denied  that  the  art  of  the  weaver  made 
woven  fabrics,  or  the  art  of  the  shoemaker  shoes.  Ac- 
cordingly, certain  portions  of  a  composite  work  of  that 
kind  would  possess  a  critical  character,  and  others  an 
apologetic.  But  in  both  instances  alike  there  was  ample 
opportunity  for  inveighing  against  the  performances  of 
the  "craftsmen."  The  release  of  an  art  from  the 
reproaches  levelled  against  it  meant  more  frequently  than 
not  the  transference  of  the  charge  on  its  practitioners. 
And  finally,  even  if  such  reproaches  were  followed  by 
a  refutation,  still  they  had  been  uttered,  and  Plato  accord- 
ingly could  use  them  in  the  sense  mentioned  above. 

We  have  lingered  on  this  subject  at  greater  length 
because  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art "  contributes  much,  and 
much  that  is  of  importance,  to  the  picture  of  the  activity 
of  the  sophists  in  the  fifth  century,  and,  if  its  Protagorean 
authorship  be  conceded,  to  the  picture  of  the  earliest  and 
the  noblest  of  the  sophists.  We  cannot  discuss  all  the 
details  here,  but  we  may  fairly  say  that  the  spirit  of 
positive  science,  nay,  of  modern  positive  science,  speaks 
to  us  from  no  other  literary  monument  of  that  age  with 
equal  vigour  or  clearness.  The  evidence  of  the  senses, 
and  the  inferences  derived  from  it,  are  the  author's  sole 
source  of  medical  and  other  knowledge.  Reluctant  Nature 
is   put   on   the    rack   and    compelled    to    bear   witness — a 


4/0  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Baconian  simile  which,  though  so  famihar  to  modern 
times,  was  otherwise,  so  far  as  we  are  aware,  unknown  to 
antiquity.  Where  observation,  experimentation,  and  the 
conclusions  thus  derived  proved  inadequate,  there  the 
impassable  barriers  of  human  cognition  were  erected. 
Universal  causation  was  recognized  and  promulgated  as 
the  unexceptional  law  of  all  occurrences,  with  a  rigour 
and  strictness  unparalleled  in  that  age,  save  only  in  the 
theory  of  the  Atomists.  The  relation  between  cause  and 
effect  was  the  foundation  of  all  foresight,  and  foresight  the 
foundation  of  all  deliberate  action.  Objects  possessed 
fixed  qualities  with  definite  bounds.  To  produce  different 
effects,  different  causes  had  to  be  brought  in  play ;  what 
was  serviceable  in  one  case  would  be  hurtful  in  a  very 
different  or  in  an  opposite  case  ;  what  proved  beneficial 
by  rightful  use  would  prove  pernicious  by  wrongful  use. 
The  limitation  of  human  powers  was  clearly  recognized 
and  emphatically  expressed.  The  author  was  not  disposed 
to  extravagant  demands  in  respect  to  man's  dominion 
over  nature,  nor  yet  to  the  exercise  of  an  arbitrary  fancy 
in  the  interpretation  of  natural  phenomena.  It  is 
astonishing,  in  our  opinion,  that  the  treatise  which  gives 
so  clear  and  forcible  an  expression  to  the  gospel  of  the 
inductive  spirit  should  have  hitherto  wholly  escaped  the 
attention  of  historians  and  philosophers.  But  our  state- 
ment is  too  sweeping.  There  is  one  exception  at  least  to 
that  indifference  which  surprises  us.  Pierre  Jean  Georges 
Cabanis,  a  brilliant  representative  of  the  last  great  era  of 
enlightenment,  in  his  work  "  On  the  Degree  of  Certainty 
in  Medicine,"  rendered  to  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art,"  which 
he  supposed  to  be  the  work  of  Hippocrates,  the  full  homage 
that  is  due  to  it.  At  every  turn  of  his  argument  Mirabeau's 
physician  did  not  merely  display  the  closeness  of  his  contact 
with  the  doctrines  of  that  treatise,  he  was  never  tired  of 
making  long  excerpts  from  it.  And  at  the  close  of  his 
own  work,  when  he  was  resuming  his  conclusions,  he 
practically  reproduced  in  a  very  slightly  altered  shape 
the  fundamental  thoughts  of  the  treatise  with  which 
he  was  so  well  acquainted. 


PROTAGORAS'    USE    OF  RHETORIC.  471 

8.  And  here  we  might  take  leave  of  Protagoras,  if  his 
practice  of  rhetoric  did  not  call  for  a  few  remarks.  Wc 
have  to  reckon  with  the  disrepute  which  clung  to  him  on 
that  account.  The  Greeks,  according  to  the  testimony  of 
Aristotle,  were  justly  incensed  with  Protagoras  for  boasting 
that  he  could  turn  the  weaker  speech  or  cause  into  the 
stronger  one.  At  this  point  an  explanation  is  due.  Aris- 
totle's words  were  consonant  with  the  standing  reproach 
that  was  levelled  at  philosophers  as  well  as  at  rhetoricians. 
It  is  mentioned  by  Socrates  in  the  Platonic  "Apology" 
among  the  "  ready-made  charges  which  are  used  against 
all  philosophers."  It  occurs  again  in  a  similar  context 
in  a  speech  of  Isocrates,  who  was  likewise  accused  by 
his  adversaries  of  perverting  justice  and  corrupting  the 
young.  Now,  it  imposes  a  somewhat  severe  strain  on  our 
credence  to  imagine  that  Protagoras,  who,  in  Timon's  words, 
"always  carefully  avoided  what  was  unseemly,"  would  have 
boasted  of  precisely  that  talent  which  not  many  years  later 
was  reckoned  as  so  shameful  a  reproach.  Two  alternatives 
are  possible  with  regard  to  the  testimony  of  Aristotle.  He 
may  have  been  able  to  quote  text  and  verse  for  his  state- 
ment, or  he  may  have  been  misled  by  a  fallacious  tradition, 
but  in  either  case  we  are  bound  to  discriminate  between 
the  formula  and  its  contents.  The  formula  was  un- 
popular and  offensive  because  it  seemed  to  imply  that 
the  rhetorician,  in  supporting  the  weaker  cause,  was  sup- 
porting the  worse  cause  too — in  other  words,  that  he  was 
supporting  injustice.  But  the  question  on  its  merits  was 
entirely  independent  of  morality  and  justice.  The  common 
aim  of  the  rhetoricians  of  antiquity  was  to  turn  the  weaker 
cause  into  the  stronger,  that  is  to  say,  to  help  arguments 
weaker  in  themselves  to  gain  the  victory  over  the  stronger. 
This  fact  may  be  stated  without  exception.  It  applies  to 
Aristotle,  whose  text-book  of  rhetoric  lies  before  us,  as  well 
as  to  any  of  the  orators.  Nor  was  there  any  difference  of 
opinion  among  the  ancients  as  to  the  liability  of  this  dialectic 
talent  to  abuse,  nor  of  the  evil  to  which  it  might  be  turned 
in  the  hands  of  malicious  adepts.  On  these  and  on  other 
grounds  Plato  repudiated  rhetoric  in  the  "  Gorgias."     It  is 


472  GREEK    THINKERS. 

to  be  noted,  however,  that  he  built  it  up  again  on  new 
foundations  in  the  "  Phaedrus,"  and  it  is  further  to  be  noted 
that  Aristotle  himself  protested  against  its  rejection  with 
the  greatest  possible  emphasis.  He  argued  as  incisively 
as  he  could  that  the  art  of  eloquence  was  governed  by  the 
same  laws  as  other  useful  things.  Nearly  all  of  them  were 
liable  to  abuse  and 

"  the  most  useful  of  them  to  the  worst  abuse.  This  was  the  case 
with  bodily  strength,  health,  riches,  and  the  art  of  generalship,  all 
of  which,  justly  employed,  were  capable  of  the  utmost  service, 
but,  unjustly  employed,  of  the  utmost  disservice." 

Accordingly,  it  was  not  the  capacity  which  deserved  to  be 
censured,  but  the  disposition  to  pervert  it  to  evil  uses.  In 
general  Aristotle  gives  us  to  understand  that  it  was  just 
as  disgraceful,  if  not  actually  more  so,  for  a  man  to  be 
unable  to  defend  himself  with  his  tongue  as  with  his  fists. 

In  this  context  we  meet  the  comparison  between  the 
art  of  rhetoric  and  a  weapon,  which  was  first  introduced 
by  Plato  in  the  "  Gorgias "  itself,  and  was  afterwards 
repeated,  occasionally  merely  in  order  to  refute  it,  by  the 
representatives  of  every  other  school,  Stoics,  Epicureans, 
Sceptics,  and  so  forth.  Eloquence  was  a  weapon  which 
was  to  serve  just  and  not  unjust  ends ;  it  was  not  to  be 
condemned  simply  for  the  sake  of  the  facilities  it  offered  to 
abuse.  "The  athlete,"  according  to  one  of  these  authors, 
"who  maltreats  his  father,  does  not  act  thus  by  reason  of 
his  athletic  skill,  but  by  reason  of  his  moral  perversity." 
When  we  reach  the  "  Rhetoric  "  of  Aristotle,  we  find  that 
he  too  was  at  pains  to  extract  the  strongest  possible 
effects  from  the  existing  store  of  evidence.  He  does  not 
withhold  his  hints  on  the  arts  of  "  magnifying  "  and  "  mini- 
mizing," of  inflating  an  insignificant  object,  that  is  to  say, 
and  of  detracting  from  the  significance  of  an  important 
one.  He  follows  the  example  of  Gorgias  in  teaching  that 
the  perfect  rhetorician  must  keep  two  ends  in  view :  he 
must  be  ready  to  weaken  the  heavy  artillery  of  his  opponent 
by  a  skirmish  of  wit,  and  he  must  receive  his  opponent's 
shafts    on    the    impenetrable    shield   of   his    own    serious 


HIS   PERSONAL   INTEGRITY.  473 

arguments.  Aristotle  was  opposed  in  principle  to  no  trick 
of  barrister's  eloquence.  It  was  doubtless  the  necessities 
of  ancient  life  *  which  induced  him  to  go  considerably 
further  in  this  direction  than  modern  practice  would 
approve.  And  even  to-day  we  account  it  in  the  better 
interests  of  justice  that  the  accusation  and  defence  be  con- 
ducted with  every  resource  of  the  pleader's  art  and  power. 
We  are  anxious  to  see  the  most  trivial  argument  developed 
to  its  fullest  extent,  even  at  the  risk  of  disturbing  the 
judgment  of  the  court  and  of  misleading  its  verdict  in 
cases  where  a  too  clever  advocate  is  confronted  with  an 
inferior  opponent.  Aristotle  at  least  was  always  guided 
by  the  presumption  that  no  one  of  these  artifices  would  be 
employed  with  disloyal  intention  ;  nor  have  we  any  ground 
to  doubt  that  the  same  reservation  held  equally  good  in 
the  instance  of  Protagoras.  His  personal  integrity  is 
vouched  for  by  his  attitude  in  the  matter  of  his  pupils'  fees, 
which  is  mentioned  by  Plato  and  eulogized  by  Aristotle, 
no  less  than  by  the  whole  of  the  Platonic  description  of 
his  personality.  Whenever  Protagoras,  in  the  dialogue  of 
that  name,  has  to  choose  between  a  lower  or  a  higher 
standard  of  ethics,  Plato  invariably  represents  him  as  pre- 
ferring the  higher  point  of  view  ;  and  in  one  instance  at 
least  his  choice  is  accompanied  by  the  express  justification 
that  he  took  it  "having  regard  not  only  to"  his  "present 
answer,  but  also  to  the  rest  of"  his  "life."  Finally,  to 
show  that  the  ethical  treatises  of  Protagoras,  among  which 
we  have  still  to  mention  those  "  On  the  Virtues  "  and  "  On 
Ambition,"  displayed  at  least  as  high  a  standard  of  morality 
as  was  characteristic  of  his  age,  we  may  quote,  not  merely 
the  statements  of  Plato,  but  also  the  significant  silence  of 
his  opponents  in  other  fields. 

Protagoras  never  forgot  his  principle  of  education,  that 
practical  exercise  was  fully  as  valuable  as  theoretical 
preparation.  Accordingly  he  devised  many  methods  to 
develop  the  faculties  of  his  pupils  and  to  strengthen  their 
powers.  As  a  teacher  of  rhetoric,  he  invented  themes  on 
which  his  pupils  were  to  argue  the  pros  and  cons.  Such 
*  Cp.  Bk.  III.  Ch.  IV.  §  I. 


474  GREEK    THINKERS. 

themes  were  questions  of  a  general  kind,  isolated  or 
insulated,  as  it  were,  from  the  complications  of  reality,  and 
thus  affording  a  suitable  preliminary  to  the  treatment  of 
the  more  difficult  and  more  involved  problems  which  life 
itself  would  propose.  We  are  reminded  of  the  advice 
offered  by  Aristotle  to  would-be  and  to  actual  poets,  who 
were  to  reduce  the  complex  contents  of  an  epic  or  dramatic 
poem  to  its  briefest  possible  expression  before  attempting 
to  clothe  it  with  individualizing  circumstances.  Another 
branch  of  this  mental  training  was  the  production  of  what 
the  ancients  called  commonplaces.  Instead  of  discovering 
and  arranging  the  arguments  for  or  against  a  theme,  the 
task  in  this  instance  was  to  divert  the  stream  of  eloquence 
into  a  particular  channel,  where  nothing  would  interrupt  its 
free  current.  The  subjects  of  such  exercises  were  speeches 
of  praise  or  blame  which  admitted  no  countervailing  cir- 
cumstances, virtues  and  vices,  or  their  human  prototypes, 
states  of  existence,  modes  of  conduct,  and  so  forth.  The 
aim  of  the  themes  was  to  train  the  pupils'  keenness  and 
dexterity  in  argument ;  that  of  the  commonplaces  was  to 
develop  their  force,  clearness,  and  fertility  of  expression, 
and  at  the  same  time  to  equip  them  with  a  stock  of 
thoughts  and  phrases  to  be  kept  in  constant  readiness  for 
use.  Thus,  in  Ouintilian's  language,  the  members  were 
given,  out  of  which  the  future  orator  was  to  create  his 
statue. 

These  aids  in  rhetorical  training  have  descended  directly 
to  our  own  times  in  the  form  of  the  "English  Essay," 
which  is  found  in  the  curriculum  of  many  public  schools. 
Complaints  have  not  unreasonably  been  made  against  the 
dead  weight  of  an  unsound  formalism,  and  the  habit  thus 
developed  of  glibly  reproducing  other  people's  thoughts  and 
sentiments  at  second  hand.  But  the  blame,  so  far  as  it  is 
deserved,  recoils  on  ourselves.  It  is  our  own  fault  entirely 
if  we  fail  to  get  rid  of  an  outworn  tradition,  and  no  blame 
attaches  to  the  eminent  men  who  more  than  two  thousand 
years  ago  invented  for  the  Greeks  those  forms  of  education 
which  were  appropriate  to  the  circumstances  of  their  times. 
We  need  not  trouble  to  apologize  for  Protagoras.     The 


CONTRIBUTIONS    OF  FORENSIC  ELOQUENCE.      475 

advance  that  is  marked  by  his  name  in  the  forensic  branch 
of  eloquence  corresponds  in  a  second  great  department  of 
the  art  to  the  work  of  his  contemporary  and  brother  orator 
to  whose  brilliant  achievements  we  have  now  to  turn  our 
attention. 


476  CREEK   THINKERS. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

GORGIAS   OF    LEONTINI. 

I.  On  a  late  summer  morning  in  the  year  427,  the  hill  of 
the  Pnyx,  which  descends  in  rocky  terraces  to  the  west  of 
the  Athenian  Acropolis,  was  the  scene  of  unwonted  com- 
motion. A  deputation  from  Sicilian  cities  had  arrived 
there  to  petition  for  protection  and  assistance  against  the 
aggression  of  Syracuse.  After  the  envoys  had  introduced 
their  mission  to  the  Council  of  the  Five  Hundred,  they 
were  brought  from  the  council  chamber  to  the  popular 
assembly  on  the  Pnyx  in  order  to  plead  their  cause. 
Gorgias,  son  of  Charmadas,  was  their  chief  spokesman  on 
that  occasion.  He  was  the  ambassador  of  Leontini  his 
native  city,  then  a  flourishing  community,  but  now  the 
degenerate  hamlet  of  Lentini,  situated  on  the  railway  line 
which  joins  Catania  and  Syracuse.  The  Athenians  of  that 
date  were  no  longer  wholly  unacquainted  with  the  pro- 
fessional art  of  eloquence.  Only  a  few  months  earlier  the 
famous  rhetorician  Thrasymachus  of  Chalcedon  had  been 
ridiculed  by  Aristophanes  in  his  "Epulones,"  His 
vehement  and  high-handed  personality  was  reserved  for 
the  scathing  satire  of  Plato,  who  was  now  lying  in  his 
cradle  ;  but  neither  he  nor  Pericles  the  Olympian,  who  had 
died  but  two  years  before,  with  his  powerful  gift  of 
naturalism,  had  ever  tempted  the  jaded  sense  of  the 
Athenians  with  so  exquisite  a  feast  of  ear  and  mind  as 
was  now  provided  by  the  Ionian  from  Sicily,  whose  voice 
was  heard  by  them  for  the  first  time  as  the  envoy  of  his 
fellow-townsmen  on  the  Pnyx.     On  one  other  occasion  at 


GORGIAS  A    FOUNDER    OF  GREEK  PROSE.      477 

least  Gorgias  returned  to  Athens.  There,  as  elsewhere  in 
Greece,  at  the  great  festivals  of  Delphi  and  Olympia 
especially,  he  achieved  triumphant  successes.  Princes, 
such  as  Jason  the  ruler  of  Pherae  in  Thessalia,  vied  with 
the  populace  in  rendering  him  honour,  and  when  he  closed 
his  career,  upwards  of  a  hundred  years  old,  his  natural 
force  was  not  abated.  "Already  is  sleep  beginning  to 
transfer  his  charge  of  me  to  his  brother  " — with  this  jest  on 
his  lips,  he  folded  his  hands  to  the  sleep  that  knows  no 
earthly  waking.  His  fame  was  proclaimed  to  posterity  by 
two  statues,  a  golden  one  that  he  himself  dedicated  to 
the  Delphic  god,  and  another  erected  at  Olympia  to  the 
childless  old  man  by  his  grand-nephew  Eumolpus,  "as 
well  in  love  as  in  gratitude  for  the  instruction  received 
from  him."  The  inscription  on  the  base  of  the  Olympic 
statue  has  only  recently  been  discovered,  and  there  we 
read  besides  that  "  none  of  the  mortals  invented  a  finer  art 
to  steel  the  souls  of  men  for  works  of  virtue." 

Gorgias  was  one  of  the  founders  of  the  art  of  Greek 
prose.  Ancient  writers  on  style  distinguish  between  two 
great  types  of  eloquence  and  a  third  intermediary  type. 
The  first,  which  has  chiefly  found  its  way  into  pane- 
gyric orations,  was  brilliant,  exalted,  stately,  flowery, 
and  full  of  colour ;  it  soothed  the  soul  by  its  harmonious 
euphonies,  or  it  excited  the  quivering  senses  by  the  bold- 
ness and  grandeur  of  its  imagery.  The  second,  which 
became  the  model  for  forensic  oratory,  was  sharp,  cool, 
clear,  and  sober  ;  it  moved  with  hasty  steps  which  quickened 
at  times  into  an  impetuous  gait,  and  its  effects  were  pro- 
duced by  reason  rather  than  imagination,  on  the  judgment 
rather  than  on  the  fancy.  The  development  of  the  last- 
named  type  owed  its  chief  impetus  to  Protagoras,  whereas 
the  name  of  Gorgias  is  associated  mainly  with  the  first. 
A  sparkling  wit,  a  fertile  and  powerful  imagination,  were 
among  the  gifts  which  Nature  had  laid  in  the  cradle  of 
Gorgias,  and  some  brilliant  phrases  which  we  can  still 
listen  to  at  his  lips  justify  our  admiration  of  his  talents. 
Take,  for  instance,  his  utterance  on  stage-illusion,  in  which 
"  the  deceived  is  wiser  than  the   not-deceived  ;  "   or    take 


47^  GREEK   THINKERS. 

his  indictment  of  those  who  turn  their  back  on  philosophy 
to  cultivate  special  sciences,  and  whom  he  compared  with 
the  "suitors  of  Penelope,  dallying  with  her  maidens." 
Some  of  his  similes  have  been  censured  by  the  purists 
of  antiquity  on  account  of  their  extravagant  character  ; 
thus,  not  unlike  Shakespeare  in  "  Macbeth,"  he  spoke  of 
vultures  as  "  living  tombs,"  and  of  Xerxes  as  **  the  Persian 
Zeus."  Nor  can  we  withstand  the  influence  of  the  changes 
of  time  and  taste  in  reviewing  a  somewhat  longer  fragment 
in  which  the  artificiality  of  his  style  becomes  palpable.  We 
may  be  permitted  to  quote  in  this  place  a  portion  of  the 
most  comprehensive  extant  remains  of  his  "  Funeral  Ora- 
tion "  delivered  in  honour  of  the  Athenian  victims  in  war : 

"  For  what  was  absent  in  these  men,"  he  asked,  "  which  should 
be  present  in  men,  and  what  was  present  of  things  which  should 
be  absent  ?  Would  that  I  could  say  what  I  wish  and  wish  what 
I  should,  evading  divine  displeasure  and  eluding  human  jealousy. 
For  the  virtue  of  these  men  was  a  divine  possession ;  their 
mortality  was  human.  Frequently  they  preferred  the  clemency  of 
equity  to  the  harshness  of  law ;  frequently,  too,  the  righteousness 
of  reason  to  the  rigidity  of  codes.  For  this  they  held  to  be  the 
most  godlike  and  most  universal  code  :  in  the  right  place  to  do 
aright  and  to  speak  aright,  to  keep  silence  aright,  and  to  bear 
aright." 

We  must  remember  that  in  epochs  of  great  reforms  in 
style  the  artificial  commonly  precedes  the  artistic.  The 
prose  of  Gorgias  and  the  faults  for  which  it  has  been 
blamed  in  ancient  and  modern  times  find  parallels  of  an 
extraordinary  closeness  in  the  productions  of  the  Renais- 
sance. How  admirably,  for  instance,  the  following  descrip- 
tion applies  to  the  oratory  of  Gorgias  with  its — 

"  Predilection  for  an  equal  number  of  words  in  collateral  or 
antithetical  sentences,  well  balanced  often  to  the  number  of 
syllables,  the  corresponding  words  being  pointed  out  by  allitera- 
tion, consonance  or  rhyme,  [combined  with]  an  exaggerated 
hyperbolical  style  or  quaint  metaphorical  diction." 

Yet  we  have  taken  it  from  a  criticism  of  the  alto  estilo 
borrowed   by  John    Lyly  in    England  from    Guevara   the 


GORGIAS  AND   ''  EUPHUISMr  479 

Spaniard,  whose  "Golden  Book  of  Marcus  Aurelius  " 
appeared  in  1529.  Lyly's  "Euphues"  was  published  just 
less  than  fifty  years  later,  and  the  Euphuistic  style,  to 
which  it  gave  a  name,  did  not  escape  the  occasional 
ridicule  of  Shakespeare.  The  turns  of  expression  in  which 
it  was  parodied  by  the  great  Elizabethan  playwright  recall 
precisely  the  excrescences  of  the  style  of  Gorgias.  We 
may  quote,  for  example,  Falstaff's  speech  to  the  Prince, 
"  For,  Harry,  now  I  do  not  speak  to  thee  in  drink  but  in 
tears,  not  in  pleasure  but  in  passion,  not  in  words  only, 
but  in  woes  also."  We  may  well  speak  of  excrescences  in 
this  connection,  for  the  history  of  every  new  method  of 
style — and  the  phenomenon  is  not  confined  to  the  arts  of 
speech — may  be  traced  through  three  stages.  It  begins 
with  its  vigorous  employment  by  those  who  invented  it  or 
who  reintroduced  it ;  but  in  that  stage  the  vigour  is  not 
excessive,  and,  moreover,  it  is  mitigated  by  the  fertility  of 
the  thoughts  to  be  expressed.  Next  comes  its  exaggerated 
abuse  on  the  part  of  imitators,  in  whose  clumsier  hands 
the  manner  becomes  a  mannerism.  Finally,  the  circle  of 
available  methods  of  art  is  widened  to  receive  the  new 
aid,  which  is  now  employed  in  due  proportion  and  in 
appropriate  circumstances.  In  modern  times,  according 
to  the  judgment  of  experts,  the  names  of  Guevara  and 
Lyly  stand  for  the  first  two  of  these  stages  ;  in  antiquity 
they  were  represented  by  Gorgias  and  by  the  author  or 
authors  of  the  two  declamations  by  pseudo-Gorgias  ("The 
Praise  of  Helen  "  and  "  Palamedes  "),  and,  finally,  partly  by 
Isocrates.  But  so  far  as  Shakespeare  is  concerned,  Euphuism 
was  not  merely  a  butt  for  his  satire.  One  feature  which  is 
common  to  Guevara  and  Gorgias  is  common  likewise  to 
Shakespeare  and  Calderon,  and  has  become  flesh  of  their 
flesh.  We  refer  to  the  "tennis  with  concetti''  and  to  that 
teeming  wealth  of  gorgeous  images  which  no  longer  serve 
the  purpose  of  interpreting  or  vivifying  the  thought,  which 
are  no  longer  means  to  an  end,  but  to  a  certain  extent 
an  end  in  themselves.  The  characteristic  features  of  the 
language  of  Gorgias  and  of  its  counterpart  in  the  Renais- 
sance may  be  referred   to   two  fundamental   causes.     The 


480  GREEK    THINKERS. 

first  is  the  natural  desire  at  the  beginning  of  a  great  literary 
epoch  to  strike  out  new  modes  of  expression,  the  novelty 
of  which  is  at  first  taken  as  the  measure  of  their  value. 
The  second  is  the  streaming  and  unbridled  vitality  of  an 
age  in  which  the  young  blood  leaps  with  a  wayward 
pulse,  and  the  mind's  activity  is  in  excess  of  the  matter  at 
its  disposal.  To-day,  too,  we  occasionally  meet  men  whose 
wit  is  enlarged  beyond  the  capacity  of  their  control,  and 
who  cannot  express  even  the  commonest  ideas  except  by 
uncommon  phrases.  Thought  disdains,  so  to  speak,  the 
ready-made  garb  of  the  vernacular  ;  on  every  occasion  it 
fashions,  as  it  were,  new  raiment  of  its  own. 

Five  only  of  the  speeches  of  Gorgias  are  known  to  us, 
through  the  usual  sources  of  brief  information  or  frag- 
mentary remnants.  There  are  the  Olympic  and  the 
Pythian  speeches,  there  are  eulogies  of  Achilles  and  the 
Eleans,  and  there  is  the  funeral  oration  which  we  have 
mentioned  above.  The  first  and  the  last  in  this  order 
were  distinguished  by  their  Pan-Hellenic  tendency.  We 
have  once  before  had  occasion  to  remark  *  that  the  itinerant 
teachers,  who  found  themselves  at  home  in  every  corner 
of  Greece,  equalled  or  surpassed  the  poets  in  Greek 
universal  patriotism,  and  naturally  came  to  carry  the 
idea  of  national  unity  through  the  sundered  cities  of  Hellas. 
We  may  quote  at  this  point  two  passages  from  Gorgias 
which  confirm  our  remarks.  In  the  Olympian  oration  the 
sophist  urged  the  Greeks  who  were  engaged  in  an  intestine 
struggle  "to  make,  not  their  own  cities,  but  the  land  of 
the  barbarians  the  prey  of  their  spear."  And  in  the 
Athenian  funeral  oration  he  commemorated  the  great 
deeds  wrought  in  common  in  the  struggle  against  the 
Persians,  and  he  delivered  himself  of  the  final  warning 
that  "victories  won  over  barbarians  call  for  pjeans  of 
triumph  ;  victories  wrung  from  the  Greeks  call  for  dirges 
of  lament." 

2.  We  pass  from  Gorgias  the  reformer  of  Greek  style, 
from  Gorgias  the  rhetorician  and  patriot,  to  his  third  phase, 
which  concerns  us  most  particularly,  as  a  Greek  thinker. 
*  Cp.  Bk.  III.  Ch.  VI.  §1. 


HIS   NATURAL    AND   MORAL   PHILOSOPHY.    48 1 

He  was  occupied  with  natural  philosophy,  with  ethics,  and 
last,  but  not  least,  with  dialectics.  Unfortunately,  time  has 
robbed  us  of  all  accurate  information  of  his  work  in  the  first 
two  of  these  departments.  We  only  know  that  as  a  natural 
philosopher  he  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  Empedocles  his 
master  in  his  study  of  the  problems  of  optics,  and  undertook 
from  that  point  of  view  to  explain  the  use  of  burning- 
reflectors.  He  never  made  an  appearance  as  a  teacher  of 
virtue,  and  on  this  account,  if  it  were  possible  to  draw  a 
strict  distinction  between  rhetoricians  and  sophists,  the  name 
of  Gorgias  would  fall  in  the  first  category  only.  Yet,  in 
the  extended  meaning  of  the  term  "  sophist,"  Gorgias,  who 
was  half  a  rhetorician  and  half  a  philosopher,  may  properly 
claim  the  title.  He  never  taught  virtue,  but  he  was 
occupied  with  it  from  its  literary  aspect.  As  an  author 
he  did  not  aim  at  simplifying  the  conception  of  virtue, 
nor  at  reducing  its  various  ramifications  to  a  common 
root ;  he  was  rather  at  pains  to  display  and  discuss  in 
their  native  multiformity  the  several  special  virtues,  dis- 
tinguishing, among  other  points,  their  variation  according 
to  the  difference  of  sex.  As  a  dialectician  he  pushed  the 
self-destruction  of  the  Eleatic  doctrine  of  being,  which 
we  met  with  in  Zeno,  to  still  further  conclusions,  which 
brought  him  at  last  to  an  absolute  negation  of  the  con- 
ception of  Ens.  Here,  too,  we  have  to  deplore  the  loss 
of  his  book  "  On  Nature  or  Not-Being,"  the  first  part  of 
which  would  doubtless  have  informed  us  of  the  arguments 
on  which  his  theory  was  based,  while  the  second  part  was 
probably  devoted  to  physics.  As  it  is,  our  chief  authority 
is  a  little  work  which  used  to  be  ascribed  to  Aristotle,  but 
which  must  really  be  regarded  as  a  late  product  of  his 
school.  This  treatise  further  discusses  the  doctrines  of 
Xenophanes  and  Melissus  in  a  manner,  as  is  universally 
acknowledged,  which  is  not  wholly  trustworthy.  On  the 
other  hand,  its  evidence  for  the  teachings  of  Gorgias  is 
commonly  accepted  as  fully  credible,  but  it  should  not  be 
forgotten  that  our  greater  confidence  in  that  instance  corre- 
sponds to  a  total  absence  of  original  fragments,  and  to  a 
well-nigh  equal  lack  of  verificatory  or  complementary  reports. 
VOL.  I.  2  1 


482  GREEK    THINKERS. 

Gorgias  undertook  to  prove  a  threefold  case :  First, 
that  a  Being  does  not  exist ;  secondly,  that  if  it  existed 
it  would  not  be  cognizable  ;  and,  thirdly,  that  if  it  were 
cognizable,  the  cognition  would  not  be  communicable. 

Two  proofs  are  advanced  for  the  first  of  these  three 
theses.  The  following  is  given  as  "the  first  proof,  and 
that  peculiar  to  Gorgias."  An  insignificant  and  seemingly 
innocent  little  sentence  is  set  up  in  the  words,  "  Not- 
Being  is  Not-Being."  From  this  small  beginning  the 
most  far-reaching  conclusions  were  derived.  It  was  argued 
that  even  if  Not-Being  is  nothing  but  Not-Being,  still  it 
is  something  ;  it  is  ;  existence  can  be  predicated  of  it.  Thus 
the  distinction  between  Being  and  Not-Being  was  re- 
moved, and  Being  lost  its  superiority  over  Not-Being. 
Further,  if,  as  was  just  shown,  Not-Being  is  or  exists  ;  it 
followed  that  Being,  as  its  opposite,  is,  or  exists,  not. 
We  are  accordingly  placed  in  this  dilemma :  either  the 
difference  between  Being  and  Not-Being  must  be  taken 
as  annulled,  according  to  the  first  part  of  the  argument, 
in  which  case  nothing  exists  ;  for  Not-Being  does  not 
exist,  and,  therefore.  Being,  its  equivalent,  cannot  exist.  Or 
the  distinction  is  not  to  be  regarded  as  annulled,  in  which 
case,  according  to  the  second  part  of  the  argument,  Being 
once  more  does  not  exist,  precisely  on  account  of  its 
opposition  to  the  Not-Being  of  which  existence  has  been 
predicated. 

The  critic  follows  hot-foot  on  the  trail  of  the  exponent 
of  this  doctrine.  It  is  almost  superfluous  to  direct  atten- 
tion to  the  fact  that  "  Being  "  and  "  Not-Being  "  are  here 
used  indiscriminately  as  equivalent  to  "to  be"  and  "not 
to  be,"  a  confusion  which  may  be  due  either  to  Gorgias 
himself  or  to  our  second-hand  authority.  Nor  need  we 
trouble  to  point  out  that  Not-Being  ceases  to  be  Not- 
Being  as  soon  as  Being  is  predicated  of  it.  But  the 
author  of  this  series  of  arguments  operates  in  a  really 
remarkable  manner.  He  takes  alternately  the  negative 
and  the  pseudo-afiirmative  sides  of  the  conception  and 
plays  them  off  against  one  another.  And  now,  when  we 
come  to  the  little  clause  of  identity  itself  from  which  the 


(i)    y/    BEING    DOES   NOT   EXIST.  483 

argument  started,  we  cannot  but  regard  it  as  inadmissible 
—nay,  if  we  look  at  it  more  closely,  as  devoid  of  sense. 
The  sentence,  "  white  is  white,"  conveys  in  our  opinion  no 
self-evident  proposition  nor  even  an  intelligible  meaning. 
The  idea  of  the  subject  is  simply  repeated  as  the  idea  of 
the  predicate,  whereas  it  is  the  function  of  a  judgment  or 
proposition  to  combine  the  two  conceptions  or  terms  of 
subject  and  predicate  with  one  another,  and  thereby  to 
impart  information  about  connections  actually  existing  in 
nature.  But  this  is  not  the  place  to  discuss  these  matters  at 
length,  and  we  may  the  more  readily  transfer  our  attention 
to  a  weightier  and  less  contentious  topic.  The  identic 
clause  with  which  we  are  dealing  is  made  to  yield  conclusions 
by  the  ambiguous  meaning  inherent  in  the  word  "is."  In 
the  sentence  "  Not-Being  is  Not-Being,"  the  verb  is 
simply  a  copula,  though  it  is  afterwards  interpreted  as  if 
it  signified  existence — outward,  objective  existence.  By 
a  similar  method  of  reasoning,  the  sentence,  "a  centaur  is 
an  image  of  the  fancy,"  might  be  used  to  prove,  not 
merely  its  legitimate  conclusion,  that  the  conception  of  a 
centaur  must  pre-exist  in  our  mind  before  we  can  discuss 
it,  but  also  that  the  centaur  possesses  external  and  objective 
existence.  Add  to  this  that  in  the  second  part  of  the 
argument  there  is  an  illicit  logical  conversion.  For  even 
if  it  were  proper  to  admit  that  "  Not-Being  is,"  no  ground 
would  therefore  be  afforded  for  the  inference  that  "  Being 
is  not."  Otherwise  it  would  be  permissible  to  turn  the 
proposition,  "Not-white  exists,"  into  the  converse  propo- 
sition, "White  exists  not."  But  serious  though  these 
errors  may  be,  they  are  by  no  means  peculiar  to  Gorgias. 
The  abuse  of  identic  propositions,  the  abuse  of  the 
copula,  and  illicit  logical  conversions,  will  all  frequently 
recur  in  our  narrative — most  frequently  in  Plato  himself, 
where  they  were  not  confined  to  the  display  of  dialectic 
fireworks  which  is  known  as  the  "  Parmenides." 

We  stand  on  different  ground  when  we  reach  the  second 
argument  that  was  advanced  for  the  first  thesis  of  Gorgias. 
The  sophist  started  from  the  contradictory  assertions  pro- 
mulgated by  his   predecessors,  and  balanced  them  against 


4^4  GREEK   THINKERS. 

each  other.  Being  must  either  be  one  or  many,  it  must 
either  have  been  generated  or  not.  Now,  each  of  these 
assumptions  had  been  severally  and  equally  refuted  on  suffi- 
cient— or  sufficiently  plausible — grounds  partly  by  Zeno, 
partly  by  Melissus,  and  partly,  we  must  add,  by  Zeno  and 
Melissus  combined.  But,  if  the  Being  is  neither  one  nor 
many,  neither  generated  nor  ungenerated,  it  cannot  exist  at 
all.  When  all  its  conceivable  predicates  had  dropped  away 
from  it  one  by  one,  its  very  reality  disappeared.  At  a  later 
stage  of  our  history  we  shall  come  to  recognize  and  discuss 
this  logical  expedient  as  the  principle  of  the  excluded  middle. 
It  is  the  less  necessary  to  dwell  on  it  here  because  it  is  at 
least  reasonable  to  doubt  whether  Gorgias  ascribed  more 
than  a  conditional  value  to  this  second  argument  of  his. 
Perhaps  he  meant  by  it  no  more  than  this  :  The  contra- 
dictory arguments  of  the  philosophers,  and  especially  the 
doubts  thrown  by  Melissus  and  Zeno  on  the  plurality,  the 
unity,  and  other  attributes  of  Being,  would,  if  granted  full 
power,  lead  inevitably  to  the  conclusion  not  drawn  by 
either  of  those  thinkers  that  that  alleged  Being  does 
not  exist  at  all.  Our  chief  authority  at  least  seems  to 
hint  at  this  interpretation  by  speaking  of  the  first  proof 
as  "  his  own,"  but  of  the  second  as  "  the  sum  of  what  other 
people  have  said." 

We  pass  to  the  second  thesis  of  Gorgias,  the  incogniza- 
bility  of  Being  even  in  the  case  where  its  existence  must  be 
admitted.  We  may  be  allowed  to  render  the  proof  in  a 
somewhat  looser  form.  If  Being  is  to  be  known,  there 
must  somewhere  be  a  warrant  of  the  correctness  of  the 
alleged  knowledge,  but  when  we  come  to  look  for  that 
warrant,  we  find  ourselves  disappointed.  It  is  not  to  be 
discovered  in  sense-perception,  the  infallibility  of  which 
has  been  so  vehemently  disputed,  nor  yet  in  our  thought 
or  imagination,  for  otherwise  we  should  not  be  able  to 
imagine  what  is  known  to  be  false — a  chariot-race  on  the 
sea,  for  example.  And  if  the  concordance  of  many  wit- 
nesses affords  no  valid  proof  of  the  correctness  of  our 
sense-perceptions,  their  evidence  must  also  be  rejected  in 
the    sphere   of   thought   and    imagination.       It   might   be 


(2)   IS  INCOGNIZABLE,   IF  EXISTENT.  485 

valid  if  we  lost  our  faculty  of  imagining  the  unreal,  but 
the  instance  that  has  just  been  given  completely  demon- 
strates the  contrary. 

At  this  point  we  have  two  remarks  to  make,  the  first 
of  a  more  general,  the  second  of  a  more  special  character. 
The  special  remark  is  due  to  the  philosophic  tendencies  of 
that  age,  and  of  Parmenides  in  especial.  Our  readers  will 
recollect  his  words,  "  the  Not-Being  is  unspeakable  and 
unthinkable  ; "  *  and  again,  "  thinking  and  being  are  the 
same,"  f  Expressions  of  this  kind  might  really  have 
been  thought  to  imply  the  proposition  that  the  untrue 
was  also  unimaginable.  Further,  if  we  recollect  that  the 
express  champion  of  the  fallibility  of  the  senses  was  no 
other  than  Melissus,  we  may  reasonably  conjecture  that 
Gorgias  aimed  this  shaft  also  at  the  Eleatics.  His  argu- 
ment would  thus  have  amounted  in  intention  to  the 
following  statement :  Melissus  taught  the  unreality  of 
sensuous  objects,  and  directed  our  desire  for  knowledge 
to  the  "  Being  "  latent  behind  them.  The  next  thing  is  to 
discover  a  foundation  for  this  knowledge  of  ours.  It  can 
but  rest  on  thought  or  imagination,  according  to  the 
verdict  of  Parmenides  that  this  makes  for  reality  alone. 
But  then  we  are  confronted  with  the  example  given  of  our 
power  to  imagine  the  unreal  as  well.  We  come  now  to 
the  more  general  remark  to  which  we  adverted  above. 
It  is  at  once  true  and  untrue  that  our  imagination 
cannot  make  for  mere  phantoms  of  the  brain.  It 
is  true  in  so  far  as  it  refers  to  the  elements  of  our 
ideas,  it  is  untrue  as  it  applies  to  the  combinations 
of  those  elements.  A  chariot-race  on  the  open  sea 
is  an  arbitrary  combination  of  ideas  foreign  to  the 
nature  of  things  ;  it  belongs  to  the  same  category  as  a 
centaur  or  a  winged  lion.  But  the  several  ingredients  out 
of  which  the  complex  is  composed  must  previously  have 
entered  our  consciousness  through  the  channel  of  experience. 
Accordingly,  they  may  claim  at  least  the  possession  of 
empiric  truth  ;  and,  whether   or   not  we  chose   to  identify 

*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §2>/. 
t  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.§4>/. 


486  GREEK   THINKERS. 

it  with  absolute  truth,  the  distinction  that  has  just  been 
drawn  between  the  elements  and  the  combinations  of  the 
ideas  is  at  least  a  distinction  of  deep  import  which  is 
wholly  neglected  in  the  ratiocination  of  Gorgias.  Once 
more  we  must  warn  our  readers  that  the  mistake  was  not 
confined  to  Gorgias,  but  must  be  laid  to  the  common 
charge  of  his  epoch.  The  thinkers  of  that  age  and  the 
next  found  a  serious  difficulty  in  the  question,  Is  it  possible, 
and  how  can  it  be  possible,  to  imagine  what  is  false  ?  Plato 
in  the  "  Theaetetus,"  as  we  shall  see,  grappled  vigorously  with 
this  question,  and  came  off  not  altogether  without  success. 
The  third  thesis  ran  as  follows.  The  knowledge  of  the 
Being,  even  if  it  existed  and  were  cognizable,  would  not  be 
communicable.  The  proof  of  this  was  to  the  effect  that, 
the  means  of  communication  being  language,  it  was  im- 
possible to  convey  through  words  anything  else  but  words. 
Language  and  other  symbols,  not  being  of  the  same 
nature  as  the  thing  they  symbolize,  can  only  communicate 
symbols.  How,  for  instance,  can  the  sense  of  colour  be 
communicated  ?  "  The  ear  is  as  incapable  of  perceiving 
colours  as  the  sight  of  knowing  sounds."  And  if  the 
person  wishing  to  communicate  a  colour  were  to  show 
another  person  the  object  which  aroused  the  colour-im- 
pression in  himself,  he  would  still  have  no  solid  ground  for 
assuming  that  the  second  impression  would  precisely  resemble 
his  own.  Far  less,  then — thus  we  may  reconstruct  the  lost 
conclusion  of  the  argument — can  language,  a  part  of  our 
nature,  be  suited  to  communicate  to  others  information 
about  external  Being  foreign  to  our  subjective  selves,  even 
if  we  had  knowledge  of  it.  In  the  proof  of  this  thesis  it 
is  to  be  noted  that  a  really  valuable  thought  is  expressed 
and  demonstrated  in  a  manner  that  admits  no  contradic- 
tion. It  is  the  thought  that  we  can  never  be  certain  of 
the  complete  identity  of  our  elementary  sensations  with 
those  of  other  people.  More  than  one  fallacy  current  in 
those  times  was  embodied  in  the  argument.  Twice  at 
least  the  confusion  was  preserved  between  the  identity  of 
species  and  the  identity  of  number.  Thus  we  read  that 
"  in  two  subjects  the   same  idea  cannot  exist,  for  then  the 


PURPOSE   OF   THE    TRIPLE    THESIS.  487 

one  would  likewise  be  two  ; "  and  again,  "  even  granted 
this,  still  the  one  could  always  appear  different  from  both, 
since  they  are  not  completely  similar  ;  for  if  they  were 
completely  similar  they  would  be  not  two,  but  one."  But 
we  quote  these  passages  without  pretending  that  they 
affect  the  value  of  the  thought  itself. 

3.  The  logical  value  of  this  sequence  of  theses  is  not  so 
difficult  to  determine  as  the  problem  of  its  purpose.  No 
one  doubts  that  it  was  modelled  on  the  polemical  pamphlet 
of  Zeno,  and  it  is  at  least  legitimate  to  ask  if  it  was  not 
dominated  by  a  parallel  leading  motive.  Zeno,  as  our 
readers  are  aware,  was  retaliating  the  attacks  suffered 
by  Parmenides  his  master,*  and  it  is  quite  conceivable  that 
Gorgias  was  animated  by  some  similar  motive.  Gorgias 
was  a  disciple  of  Empedocles,  and  there  is  certainly  a 
wide  gulf  between  the  comparatively  naive  belief  in 
the  evidence  of  the  senses,  to  which  Empedocles  sub- 
scribed, and  its  repudiation  at  the  hands  of  the  Eleatics. 
The  Empedoclean  theory  of  nature  was  bound  to  wither 
at  the  rise  of  the  new  luminaries  in  the  intellectual  firma- 
ment. It  could  not  but  provoke  the  ridicule  and  contempt 
of  a  Zeno  and  a  Melissus.  Indeed,  Zeno  composed  a 
"critical  discussion"  of  the  doctrines  of  Empedocles,  which 
was  extant  in  antiquity.  Now  the  shafts  of  Gorgias,  as  we 
have  seen,  were  preferentially,  if  not  exclusively,  aimed  at 
the  Eleatics.  Above  all,  he  delighted  in  setting  the  two 
younger  representatives  of  the  doctrine  of  Ens  to  fight  it 
out  with  one  another.  This  was  his  attitude  in  a  portion 
of  the  second  argument  appertaining  to  the  first  of  his 
theses,  to  which  we  must  now  revert.  Taking  it  in  closer 
consideration,  we  see  that  Melissus  had  deduced  the  spatial 
infinity  of  the  world  from  the  old  physical  doctrine  of  its 
temporal  infinity,  or  its  eternity.  Now,  Gorgias  exerted 
himself  to  prove  to  a  hair's  breadth  that  such  an  infinite 
could  not  exist.  He  looked  in  vain  for  the  place  of  its 
existence.  If  it  existed  in  itself,  there  would  be  two 
infinites,  the  one  containing  and  the  other  contained  ;  if 
it  existed  in  another,  it  would  not  be  infinite,  and  both 
*  Cp.  15k.  Il.Ch.  III.  §  2. 


4^8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

objections  were  fatal  to  the  proposition.  Moreover,  our 
authority  is  quite  clear  on  the  point  that  Gorgias  was  here 
supporting  himself  on  Zeno's  reasoning  about  space.  It 
was  a  source  of  keen  delight  to  him  to  confute  one  of  the 
younger  Eleatics  by  the  other,  and  it  is  legitimate  to  con- 
jecture that  his  delight  was  at  least  not  wholly  impersonal. 
When  we  reach  the  question  whether  the  so-called 
nihilism  of  Gorgias  was  in  truth  intended  or  suited  to 
overthrow  the  foundations  of  all  knowledge,  we  can  make 
a  more  definite  reply.  Here  too  no  one  but  George  Grote 
has  had  the  courage  to  deny  this  almost  universal  opinion, 
Grote  believed  that  Gorgias  wanted  to  demolish,  not  the  phe- 
nomenal world,  but  the  "ultra-phenomenal  or  Noumenon." 
But  this  belief  has  provoked  the  remark  that  "  our  reports  do 
not  contain  the  faintest  hint  of  any  such  limitation."  The 
remark  is  valid  as  far  as  it  goes,  but  where  the  facts  them- 
selves speak  with  unequivocal  certainty  it  becomes  un- 
necessary to  listen  for  outspoken  or  whispered  statements. 
Grote  expressed  himself  in  a  way  which  was  rather  too 
modern  to  be  quite  pertinent.  Nevertheless,  the  relation 
between  the  sensible  world  and  the  "  Being  "  of  Parme- 
nides  and  Melissus  is  completely  analogous  to  that  which 
obtains  between  the  phenomenon  and  the  Noumenon  or 
"thing  in  itself"  of  Kant.  In  making  this  admission, 
however,  we  must  be  careful  to  note  that  the  "  Being  "  had 
not  yet  lost  every  trace  of  its  empiric  origin,  that  it  was 
still  chiefly  conceived  as  extended  in  space.  It  is  true 
that  the  surviving  fragments  of  Gorgias  and  of  his  authori- 
ties will  be  searched  in  vain  for  a  single  expression  bringing 
this  contrast  into  sharp  relief.  But  we  may  fairly  ask  if 
any  one  seriously  believes  that  Gorgias,  in  renouncing  the 
"  Being,"  was  prepared  thereby  to  renounce  all  acquaintance 
with  the  nature  of  things  ;  that  he  was  content  to  deny 
every  regularity  in  the  processes  of  nature  ;  that  he  was 
opposed  to  his  brother  philosophers  in  neither  expecting 
nor  assuming  the  rise  of  the  morrow's  sun,  the  burgeoning 
of  the  spring  next  year,  the  repetition  of  similar  processes 
in  similar  circumstances — in  a  word,  stability  of  qualities 
itself.       We    need    not   accept  this   belief.     We   need   not 


MOTIVE    OF   THE   GORGIAN  POLEMIC.         489 

load  the  subtle  genius  of  Gorgias  with  the  crudest  and 
grossest  inconsistency.  But  we  must  assume  that  this  line 
of  demarcation  was  present  to  his  mind,  whether  or  not  he 
had  nailed  it  down  to  a  fixed  terminology.  And  it  will 
perhaps  not  be  inadmissible  to  look  for  the  missing  word 
in  the  sole  place  where  Gorgias  speaks  to  us  out  of  his  own 
mouth,  in  the  title,  that  is  to  say,  of  his  work  "  on  Nature 
or  the  Not-Being."  Quite  recently  that  title  has  been  dis- 
missed as  a  "grotesque  farce,"  and  has  been  quoted  as 
evidence  that  Gorgias  set  up  his  theses  merely  by  way  of 
a  jest.  We  beg  to  differ  from  that  view.  We  venture  to 
quote  the  example  of  Xeniades,  a  Corinthian  philosopher 
and  contemporary  of  Democritus,  who  maintained  that 
everything  proceeded  "  from  the  Not-Being,"  and  sank 
back  "  to  the  Not-Being  again."  And  we  would  add  that 
Plato's  doctrine  of  matter  will  introduce  us  to  a  form  of  the 
conception  of  Not-Being  which  was  intended  to  be  taken 
quite  seriously. 

It  is  when  we  reach  the  second  of  the  theses,  however, 
that,  if  all  the  indications  do  not  mislead  us,  we  meet  the 
real  and  fundamental  motive  of  the  polemics  of  Gorgias. 
There  we  learn  that  the  point  of  his  quarrel  with  the 
Eleatic  school  was  one  with  which  the  impartial  reader  of 
to-day  must  likewise  gravely  quarrel.  With  all  due 
respect  to  the  doctrines  of  Parmenides  and  Melissus,  we 
feel  bound  to  give  expression  to  one  important  protest. 
We  are  tempted  to  ask  both  those  thinkers  how  they 
could  have  dismissed  to  the  limbo  of  delusion  so  consider- 
able a  part  of  all  human  knowledge  with  such  confident 
certainty,  and  yet,  with  equal  confidence,  have  treated  the 
rest  of  it  as  truth  unassailable.  Where,  we  ask,  was  their 
warrant  for  assuming  that  a  part  of  their  faculties  caused 
them  utterly  to  err,  while  another  part  led  them  to 
unerring  insight  .''  And  where,  we  wonder,  did  they  dis- 
cover the  bridge  which  should  translate  them  from  the 
world  of  subjective  appearance,  in  which  they  themselves 
were  completely  submerged,  to  the  region  of  pure  objective 
Being  .-^  The  doctrine  of  Parmenides  was  plainly  open  to 
this   reproach — the  more  so,  indeed,  because  he  based  the 


490  GREEK   THINKERS. 

psychical  processes  wholly  and  solely  on  the  physical. 
This  fact  is  expressed  in  his  "  Words  of  Opinion "  * 
alone,  but  it  is  nowhere  contradicted  in  his  "Words  of 
Truth."  He  and  his  adherents  could  not  avail  themselves 
of  the  saving  device  by  which  the  body  was  held  to  be 
encompassed  by  error,  while  our  immortal  soul  brought  us 
tidings  from  the  world  of  pure  truth.  For  by  no  single 
word  are  we  given  to  believe— and  all  inner  probability 
is  against  it — that  Parmenides  ascribed  to  "psyche"  any 
share  in  the  life  of  the  waking  intellect,  and  thus  in  the 
process  of  knowledge,  though  he  agreed  with  the  Pytha- 
goreans and  Orphics  in  letting  it  survive  the  body  and 
experience  various  destinies.f  We  shall  hardly  be  wrong, 
then,  in  marking  as  the  strongest  motive  in  the  polemic  of 
Gorgias  against  the  Eleatics  and  the  theory  of  Being  which 
they  upheld,  his  amazement  at  the  confident  dogmatism 
which  they  themselves  had  been  at  pains  to  deprive  of  its 
basis. 

4.  At  this  point  we  may  revert  to  the  allied  features  of 
the  age.  In  surveying  the  change  effected  by  Hippocrates 
and  his  disciples  in  the  domain  of  medicine,  we  saw  that  its 
chief  monument  was  to  be  found  in  the  growth  of  modesty, 
and  in  the  reaction  from  the  self-satisfied  dogmatism  of 
older  schools.  This  trait  was  naturally  connected  with  a 
tendency  to  Relativism,  the  first  traces  of  which  we 
perceived  as  early  as  Heraclitus.  The  far-sighted  author 
of  the  treatise  "  On  Old  Medicine "  described  as  the 
modest  but  hardly  attainable  goal  of  research,  not  what 
man  is  in  himself,  but  what  he  is  in  relation  to  what  he 
eats  and  drinks,  and  to  the  rest  of  the  business  of  his  life.| 
He  contrasted  the  comparatively  meagre  certainties  due  to 
experiment  and  observation  with  the  pretentious  fictions 
which  he  expelled  from  the  domain  of  his  art ;  and  now, 
if  we  revert  to  the  sole  surviving  literary  monument  of 
the  movement  known  as  sophistry — the  work  "  On  the 
Art " — we  meet  the  same  contraction  of  formerly  high- 
flown  ambitions,  and  the  same  spirit  of  Relativism.     And 

*  Bk.  II.  Ch.  II.  §  sfin.  t  Bk.  II.  Ch.  V.  §  7. 

X  Bk.  III.  Ch.  I.  §  5/«. 


ADVANCES   OF  EXACT   THOUGHT.  49 1 

whether  or  not  we  may  call  Protagoras  its  author,  we  have 
still  seen  reason  to  recognize  there  the  chief  metaphysical 
tenet  of  that  sophist  in  a  form  that  is  likewise  an 
obvious  reflection  of  the  Relativistic  spirit.  Nor  need  we 
dwell  on  the  fact  that  the  thinker  who  pushed  "  man  "  so 
decisively  into  the  foreground  of  the  problem  of  cognition, 
must  have  been  more  or  less  conscious  of  the  limitation  of 
all  knowledge  by  the  bounds  of  human  faculties. 

Modesty  and  Relativism — the  teachings  of  Socrates, 
the  next  great  chapter  of  our  inquiry,  will  be  true  to  these 
kindred  points.  And  we  shall  there  be  confronted  with  a 
third  token  of  the  increased  stringency  of  the  claims  of 
science  in  the  endeavour  sharply  to  define  conceptions. 
An  early  milestone  on  this  road  was  marked  by  the 
attempt  of  Prodicus,  surviving  unfortunately  but  in  the 
barest  outline,  exactly  to  distinguish  synonymous  words. 
I'urther,  the  speeches  put  by  Plato  in  the  mouth  of  Pro- 
tagoras show  a  respect  for  the  precise  value  of  words  ;  nor 
does  Plato's  satirical  aim  prevent  us  from  recognizing  that 
advance.  Thus,  when  the  Platonic  Protagoras  remarks  of 
the  culinary  use  of  oil,  that  it  is  intended  merely  "to  correct 
the  discomfort  which  is  a  concomitant  of  the  sensations 
conveyed  to  us  through  the  nose  at  eating  meats  and  sauces," 
the  humour  lies  in  the  disproportion  between  the  subtlety 
of  the  expression  and  the  trivial,  not  to  say  the  repulsive, 
character  of  the  subject.  But  this  artifice  of  the  incom- 
parable caricaturist  cannot  destroy  our  perception  of  the 
great  gain  to  philosophy  in  the  strict  and  novel  distinction 
drawn  between  the  sensible  impression  and  its  object  on 
the  one  part,  and  the  sensation  itself  and  its  concomitant 
pleasure  or  pain  on  the  other.  The  earliest  experiment  in 
definition  proper  occurs  in  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art," 
where  we  read — 

"  and  first  of  all  I  shall  lay  down  what  I  regard  as  the  essence 
[or  end]  of  the  art  of  healing,  namely,  the  complete  removal  of 
the  suffering  from  the  patients,  and  the  mitigation  of  its  severity, 
and  " — he  adds  with  intentional  paradox — "  the  not-daring-at-all  to 
meddle  with  cases  where  the  patients  are  already  overcome  by 
disease." 


492  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Democritus,  again,  began  a  definition  which  he  speedily 
let  fall,  in  the  little  sentence  "  Man  is — what  we  all  know," 
and  Aristotle  was  acquainted  with  his  definitions  of  the 
conceptions  of  hot  and  cold,  though  they  have  not  been 
preserved.  It  was  natural  enough  that  mathematics  should 
have  been  the  home  of  these  experiments.  There  was 
first  a  definition  of  number  commonly  ascribed  to  Thales, 
and  apart  from  that  we  are  acquainted  with  the  polemic 
of  Protagoras  against  the  definition  of  tangential  lines,  as 
well  as  with  the  definitions  with  which  Autolycus  opened 
his  two  elementary  treatises,  "  On  the  Moving  Sphere " 
and  "  On  the  Rise  and  Setting  of  the  Stars."  For 
though  these  writings  belong  to  the  close  of  the  fourth 
century,  yet  they  plainly  testify  to  a  long  series  of 
precursors.  It  was  obviously  not  due  to  chance  that  the 
Pythagoreans,  the  cultivators  of  mathematics,  had,  as  Aris- 
totle tells  us,  already  begun  to  define  a  few  ethical  ideas. 
Finally,  we  are  acquainted  with  two  definitions  of  Gorgias. 
One,  with  which  we  need  not  concern  ourselves  at  present, 
dealt  with  the  conception  of  rhetoric,  and  the  other  with 
that  of  colour.  The  definition  of  colour  was  stated  in  a 
solemn  form  of  speech  which  excited  the  ridicule  of  Plato 
when  he  mentioned  it  for  the  first  time.  Its  contents, 
however,  were  incorporated  in  a  work  of  Plato's  maturity, 
and  the  respect  which  he  paid  throughout  to  the  person  of 
Gorgias  was  extended,  in  a  work  of  his  old  age,  to  the 
ethical  doctrines  of  that  sophist.  The  definition  in  question 
was  based  on  the  Empedoclean  doctrine  of  "  pores  "  and 
"effluvia,"  according  to  which  colours  could  only  be 
perceived  when  the  two  were  in  conformity,  and  it  ran  as 
follows  :  "  Colour  is  an  effluvium  which  proceeds  from  a 
form  extended  in  space,  which  corresponds  to  sight,  and 
which  is  liable  to  perception."  According  to  the  "Meno" 
of  Plato,  the  youth  of  that  name  had  heard  this  definition  at 
the  lips  of  Gorgias  himself  during  his  residence  in  Thessaly 
in  the  last  years  of  his  life. 

An  important  consequence  follows  on  this  fact.  Plato, 
who  never  committed  mere  arbitrary  anachronisms,  may 
be   quoted    to  show   that  Gorgias,  even    in    his    ripe   old 


EVIDENCE    OF  PUPILS    OF  GORGIAS.  493 

age,  and  a  considerable  time  after  the  publication  of  his 
dialectic  theses,  was  engaged  in  the  discussion  of  physical 
problems.  This  view  is  supported  by  the  observation  that 
most  of  the  pupils  of  Gorgias,  though  their  interest  gravi- 
tated to  rhetoric  and  politics,  were  still  by  no  means  without 
traces  of  the  discipline  of  the  natural  sciences.  Our  readers 
are  already  acquainted  with  the  name  of  Alcidamas  *  as 
the  champion  of  the  law  of  nature,  and  we  still  possess 
from  his  pen  an  admirable  oration  praising  the  art  of  ready 
improvisation,  and  declaring  its  productions  to  be  far 
more  valuable  than  elaborate  written  discourses.  But 
what  is  to  be  noted  in  this  connection  is  that  he  was  like- 
wise the  author  of  a  work  on  physics  composed  perhaps 
in  the  form  of  a  dialogue.  Another  and  less  important 
pupil  of  Gorgias  was  Polus  the  rhetorician,  whom  Plato 
also  mentions  as  a  student  of  nature.  And,  finally, 
though  Isocrates  renounced  physics  no  less  than  dialectic, 
yet  he  immortalized  his  teacher  Gorgias,  as,  above 
all,  his  teacher  in  the  natural  sciences.  On  the  richly 
carved  monument  which  marked  the  tomb  of  Isocrates, 
Gorgias  was  represented  directing  his  attention  to  a 
globe.  And,  as  a  master  does  not  readily  survive  in 
the  memory  of  his  disciples  as  the  representative  of 
an  earlier  phase  of  activity  since  abandoned  by  himself, 
this  circumstance  likewise  refutes  the  assumption  that 
the  paradoxes  of  Gorgias  formed  a  kind  of  break  in  his 
career,  sundering  it  into  two  completely  dissimilar  halves. 
We  are  quite  unable  to  say  whether  he  thereafter  clothed 
his  physical  doctrines,  after  the  manner  of  Parmenides, 
with  a  cloak  of  reservation  ;  whether,  in  disputing  the  con- 
ception of  Ens,  he  kept  its  strict  Eleatic  form  with  rigid 
exclusiveness  before  his  eyes  ;  or  whether  he  advanced 
to  a  purely  phenomenalistic  view  and  like  his  pupil 
Lycophron,  avoided  the  use  of  the  verb  "  to  be "  alto- 
gether, even  as  a  copula.  And  our  ignorance  on  these 
points  is  the  less  surprising  since  we  cannot  even  solve  the 
primary  contradiction  between  the  two  statements  in  our 
chief  authority,  which  asserts  that  Gorgias  maintained  that 
*  Cp.  Bk.  III.  Ch.  IV.  §6. 


494  GREEK   THINKERS, 

"nothing  exists,"  and  that  he  disputed  the  conception  of 
Non-Ens  as  vehemently  as  that  of  Ens. 

The  so-called  nihilism  of  Gorgias  has  given  rise  to 
the  opinion  that  he  had  abandoned  thenceforward  every 
true  search  for  knowledge,  and  had  devoted  himself 
exclusively  to  the  art  of  persuasion,  or  rather,  that  this, 
in  despite  of  the  facts,  would  have  been  his  more  logical 
proceeding.  But  the  curious  thing  is  that,  in  a  case 
where  the  circumstances  are  virtually  repeated,  no  one 
has  tried  to  draw  the  same  conclusion.  The  Xenophontic 
Socrates  exposes  the  contradictions  of  his  predecessors  in 
philosophy  in  a  way  not  dissimilar  to  the  procedure  of 
Gorgias.  Some  maintained  that  the  Being  was  single, 
others  that  it  was  infinite  in  number.  Some  had  taught 
the  doctrine  of  incessant  motion,  others  of  total  im- 
mobility :  some  had  maintained  the  birth  and  decay  ^f 
all  things,  others  had  repudiated  those  processes  in  toto. 
On  these  grounds  Socrates  inferred  the  vanity  and  fruit- 
lessness  of  those  kinds  of  investigations  which,  in  his 
opinion,  exceeded  the  bounds  of  human  capacity.  But 
he  did  not  go  even  so  far  as  to  draw  the  conclusion  that 
all  endeavours  to  understand  nature  are  vain.  Rather 
he  desired  that  his  disciples  should  acquire  a  degree  of 
natural  science  adequate  for  their  practical  purpose,  that 
the  young  steersman,  for  example,  should  have  the 
requisite  astronomy  at  his  disposal.  He  never  conceived 
the  idea  that  the  mere  conflict  of  opinions  excluded,  as 
long  as  it  lasted,  the  possibility  of  scientific  instruction. 
Nay,  so  inconceivable  was  it  to  him,  that  we  rather  identify 
his  name  with  the  opening  out  of  a  fresh  region  for  investi- 
gation, inasmuch  as  Socrates  was  at  pains  to  exalt  "  human 
afi"airs"  to  an  object  of  more  thorough  insight  than  had  as 
yet  been  attained  in  any  department  of  knowledge.  And 
his  prospect  of  success  in  that  fresh  field  of  inquiry  was 
not  marred  by  the  scepticism  arising  from  his  exposure  of 
the  contradictions  we  have  mentioned. 

Socrates,  it  is  true,  unlike  Gorgias,  never  attacked 
in  a  spirit  of  critical  destructiveness  the  conception 
of    "Being."      At    the    same    time     it    would    be     idle 


ANTHROPOLOGY    v.    COSMOLOGY.  495 

to  pretend  that  the  conception  played  even  the   smallest 
part    in    his     intellectual     life.      He    was     as    indisposed 
as  Gorgias  to  ascribe  to  it  with  confidence  any  predicates 
whatsoever.      The   one   certain   fact    is   that   he    left   the 
old  and  beaten  track  of  investigation  because  it  seemed 
to    lead   to   no   prosperous   goal.     And   here   we   reach  a 
point   which    is   of  the   utmost  importance   to   our   study 
of   the    civilization    of    the    age.      We    have    marked    in 
many    isolated     phenomena    the    indications    of    an    in- 
tellectual revolution,    and   we   are   now   in    a   position    to 
characterize    as   one    of    the   factors    in    that    change  the 
difference  as  to  the  assumed   solubility  of  problems  with 
which    former   generations   had   grappled   with   strenuous 
eagerness.     Cosmology,  in   the  widest  sense  of  that  term, 
was  superseded    more   and   more  by  Anthropology  in  an 
equally  comprehensive  sense.    Other  factors,  some  of  which 
we  have  already  tried  to  appreciate,*  worked  in  combina- 
tion with  this  one.     But  we  have  still  to  mention  the  factor 
which  was  at  once  the  least  obtrusive  and  perhaps  the  most 
efficacious,  namely,  the  simple  lapse  of  time.     Many  years 
were  required  before  man  regarded  himself  as  a  worthy 
subject  of  scientific  treatment.     And  with  the  many  years 
went  the  growth  of  self-respect  consequent  on  the  improved 
dominion  of  man  over  nature,  on  the  gradual  perfection  of 
civil  and  social  order,  and,  not  least,  on  the  steady  increase 
of  the  treasures  and  resources  of  the  intellect.     At  first  the 
rising  spirit  of  curiosity  had  been  directed  almost  exclusively 
to  external   nature.     Man  did   not  wholly  forget   himself, 
but  at  most  he  regarded  himself  as  a  kind  of  fragile  mirror, 
in   which    the   external   world    was    seen   through   a   glass 
darkly.      But  the   moment  came  when    his   maturer  self- 
consciousness   reminded   him  that  his  own  faculties  were 
the   limit   and   condition   of  all   knowledge,  when   he  was 
discouraged    by    the    scries    of    vain    attempts    to    solve 
the    riddle    of  the  universe    at   one  guess,    and   when    he 
had    gradually  reached    a    higher    degree    of   self-respect. 
Then  it  was  that  the  attention  of  the  inquirer  was  directed 
to   man  as  "  the  proper  study  of  mankind."     And  when 
*  Cp.  Bk.  lll.Ch.  IV.  §  I. 


496  GREEK   THINKERS. 

the  change  had  been  effected,  one  of  its  foremost  tokens 
was  the  deeper  seriousness  and  intensity  with  which 
the  field  of  history  was  cultivated.  The  leading  minds 
which  fifty  years  before  would  have  reinforced  the 
ranks  of  the  nature-philosophers  now  obeyed  the  in- 
vitation of  Socrates,  their  contemporary,  and  turned  to 
the  study  of  "human  affairs."  He  it  was  who  formu- 
lated this  demand  most  clearly,  and  who  realized  it  most 
vigorously.  But  before  we  open  a  new  book  with  the 
name  of  the  Athenian  thinker,  whom  we  have  mentioned 
so  frequently,  it  will  be  appropriate  to  glance  at  the 
changes  in  historiography  which  may  be  traced  to  the 
tendencies  we  have  been  describing. 


(     497     ) 


CHAPTER   VIII. 

THE   ADVANCE   OF    HISTORICAL   SCIENCE. 

I.  The  study  of  history  in  this  age  had  reached  enormous 
dimensions.     Side  by  side  with  the  great  compilations  of 
legendary  matter,  such   as   the   work   of  Pherecydes  con- 
tained,   went    descriptions    of    the    living    present.      The 
historian's  pen  turned  from  Uranus  and  Cronos  to  Pericles 
and  Cimon.     His  sceptre  stretched  from  the  pellucid  tran- 
quillity of  Olympus  to  the  turbid  scandal  of  his  own  day. 
It  happened   sometimes   that  the  same  mind   made  itself 
equally  at  home  on  the  heights  and  in  the  depths  of  its 
art.     Thus  Stesimbrotus  of  Thasos,  who,  in  his  work  "  On 
the  Mysteries,"  was  a  diligent  student  of  the  echoes  of  for- 
gotten myths,  proved  at  the  same  time  a  no  less  industrious 
scavenger  in  the   mire   of  the  contemporary  gossip   with 
which   he   sullied    the    figures   of  the    great    statesmen  of 
Athens.     Moreover,  he   found   leisure   to   expatiate    in    a 
special  study  on  the  life  of  Homer  and  on  the  interpretation 
of  his  poems.     Nor  did  the  history  of  art  and   literature 
suffer  otherwise  from  lack  of  cultivation.     Damastes  and 
Glaucus   of   Rhegium  are   mentioned    as  the  two  earliest 
labourers  in  that  field.     Damastes  was  the  compiler  of  a 
treatise  "  On  Poets  and  Sophists,"  in  which  the  "  sophists  " 
obviously  meant  nothing  else  than  philosophers,  if  for  no 
other  reason  than  because  of  their  association  with  poets. 
And  Glaucus,  a  contemporary  of  Dcmocritus,  had  written 
on  ancient  poets  and  musicians.     The  prince  of  encyclo- 
paedists, Democritus  himself,  who  had  discussed  the  begin- 
nings of  poetry  in  his  works  on  the  composition  and  language 
VOL.  I.  2  K 


49^  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  Homer,  was  occupied  in  other  treatises  with  the  begin- 
nings of  music,  and  he  was  the  first  to  utter  the  thought, 
elaborated  at  a  later  date  by  Plato  and  Aristotle,  that 
leisure  and  a  certain  amount  of  material  prosperity  are 
the  most  favourable  soil  for  the  productions  of  art  and 
science.  A  list  of  poets  and  musicians,  chronologically 
arranged,  preserved  in  Sicyon,  and  consulted  by  Hera- 
clides  of  Pontus,  may  have  been  older  than  the  works  we 
have  just  mentioned.  Nor  was  chronology  any  longer  the 
mere  handmaid  of  historical  research,  as  in  this  special 
catalogue  and  in  the  lists  of  Hellanicus  and  Hippias.* 
It  was  a  subject  of  independent  study.  Cleostratus 
worked  at  it  in  verse  as  early  as  the  sixth  century, 
and  his  labours  were  continued  in  the  fifth  by  Harpalus 
and  others,  among  whom  may  be  named  CEnopides 
and  Meton,  the  great  reformers  of  the  calendar. 
About  this  time,  too,  the  Greeks  began  to  write  the 
history  of  other  nations  besides  their  own.  Histories  of 
Persia  were  composed  by  Charon  of  Lampsacus  and 
Dionysius  of  Miletus  ;  and  Xanthus  the  Lydian,  in  nar- 
rating the  history  of  his  own  people,  set  a  precedent  to 
other  foreigners  at  a  later  date  in  availing  himself  of  the 
vehicle  of  the  Greek  language.  History  was  constantly 
being  provided  with  fresh  material  by  the  reports  of 
explorers  such  as  Scylax  of  Carianda  and  Euthymenes  of 
Massalia,  as  well  as  by  the  growing  literature  of  memoirs. 
To  this  class  belonged  the  "Pilgrimage"  of  Ion  the 
poet,  of  which  but  a  few  delightful  fragments  survive. 

So  much,  perhaps,  for  the  extension  of  the  horizon  of 
history.  The  inward  change  through  which  it  passed  is 
of  far  greater  importance.  Political  wisdom  presently 
attained  a  height  from  which  the  historians  looked  down 
on  the  Herodotean  view  of  politics  as  the  mature  and 
supple  intellect  of  the  grown  man  looks  down  on  the 
limitations  of  his  childhood.  The  earliest  traces  of  this 
change  are  found  in  the  sole  surviving  remnant  of  the 
rich  literature  of  pamphlets  which  distinguished  the  close 
of  the  fifth  century. 

*  Bk.  III.  Ch.  V.  §  5   /?«. 


THE   ''CONSTITUTION  OF  ATHENS.''  499 

2,  The  treatise  "  On  the  Constitution  of  Athens "    is 
one  of  the   most   remarkable   literary  productions   of  all 
ages.     It  bears  the   marks  of  a   strong  political  passion, 
but  that  passion  is  tempered  by  so  notable  a  tendency  to 
scientific  method  that  we  recognize  at  once  the  powerful 
brain  and  the  embittered  heart  which  went  together  to  its 
composition.      The    author    might    be    compared    to    an 
officer   sent  to  reconnoitre  a  hostile  fortress   in  order  to 
spy  out   its  weaknesses  and  to  devise  the  best  means  of 
attack.     But   the   officer,  to   press  the   simile  home,  must 
be    conceived    as    struck    with    surprise    at    the    perfect 
plan   of   the   fortress,   and   at    the   intelligent    manner  in 
which  all  its  parts  are  suited  to  one  another  and  to   the 
common  purpose  they  are  intended   to   fulfil.     Hence  we 
must   suppose   him    not   merely   to   deprecate    any   hasty 
assault,   but   even   to   give    unreserved    expression    to  his 
admiration     of    the     architectural    design,     and     thus    to 
become  the   eulogist,  as  it  were,  of  his  deeply  hated  foe. 
Hatred   it   was,   at  least,  which   put   a   fine   edge  on   the 
keenness  of  the  vision   of  this  oligarch,  and  opened  his 
eyes  to   many   a  pohtical  principle  hitherto  undisclosed. 
The  harmony  of  political  institutions  with  the  conditions 
of  society,  and  the  agreement  between  the  outward  forms 
and    the    inner    contents    of     a    community,     were    here 
discovered   for  the  first  time.     This  treatise  took  account 
of   the    sea-power    of    Athens,    and    of    the    commercial 
supremacy  which  rested  thereon.     It  discussed   Athenian 
modes  of  warfare,  and  the  relation  between  the  army  and 
the   fleet.     It   subjected  the   democratic  constitution  to  a 
searching   criticism,  in   the  course  of  which    many  recog- 
nized   and    deplorable    evils,    such   as   the  judiciary   com- 
pulsion    of     confederates,     the     delays    of   the    law,    the 
arrogant  and  undisciplined  character    of  the    metics   and 
slaves,  were  shown  to  be  no  mere  accidental  abuses,  but  to 
be    inherent  to  democracy.       Superficial    views    were  dis- 
carded   throughout ;    links    of    connection    and    common 
causes  were  looked   for,   and    the    whole    treatise  was    in- 
formed with   so   strong   a    logical   light   that,    despite    its 
unpretentious  character,  it  has  earned  its  significant  title 


500  GREEK    THINKERS. 

to  the  rank  of  the  earliest  model  of  the  deductive  method 
as  applied  to  society  and  politics. 

Yet  this  title  cannot  be  conceded  by  us  without 
making  some  deductions.  We  fully  appreciate  the  en- 
deavour by  which  the  author  of  the  treatise  was  moved 
to  reduce  the  abundance  of  isolated  phenomena  to  a  few 
great  common  principles.  Nor  would  we  detract  from 
the  value  of  the  sense  of  causation  which  that  endeavour 
brought  into  play.  Still,  the  fact  remains  that  the 
deductive  method  is  but  poorly  adapted  to  account  for 
the  results  of  historical  development  and  to  illustrate  its 
processes.  Our  author  may  fairly  claim  to  have  com- 
manded an  exceptional  wealth  of  fine  observations  and 
penetrating  inferences.  In  some  of  his  isolated  passages 
he  has  not  unjustly  been  called  a  worthy  predecessor  of 
Burke,  Machiavelli,  and  Paolo  Sarpi.  But  it  is  an  ex- 
aggeration to  speak  of  his  work  as  the  "  earliest  contribution 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  natural  laws  governing  political 
institutions."  The  starting-point  of  all  his  researches  was 
the  inner  bond  of  connection  between  sea-power  and  de- 
mocracy. But,  although  we  may  grant  that  this  connection 
was  a  specific  product  of  Athenian  evolution,  we  need  but 
glance  at  the  stories  of  Carthage,  Venice,  Holland,  and 
England  herself,  to  prove  that  it  was  not  governed  by  any 
"  law  of  nature."  Nor  can  the  author  invariably  be  ac- 
quitted of  the  charge  of  straining  his  conclusions.  The 
thesis  which  he  undertook  to  prove  was  announced  at  the 
opening  of  his  treatise  in  the  following  words  : — 

"  I  praise  the  Athenians  not  because  they  preferred  this  kind 
of  political  constitution,  for  therein  they  preferred  the  welfare  of 
the  evil  to  the  welfare  of  the  good.  But  I  praise  them  because, 
having  made  their  decision,  they  knew  ho^^"  to  preserve  the  con- 
stitution they  chose,  and  because  in  other  respects  likewise,  where 
the  rest  of  the  Greeks  think  them  wrong,  they  attain  what  they 
aim  at.     This,  then,  is  what  I  shall  prove." 

And  near  the  end  of  the  treatise  we  read  again — 

"  Much  might  be  devised   to  improve  the   constitution,  but 


BIAS    OF   THE    TREATISE.  50 1 

nothing  could  readily  be  discovered  to  preserve  the  democracy  and 
yet  to  effect  any  serious  improvement.  Such  a  work  could  only 
be  done  in  an  insignificant  degree  by  adding  something  in  one 
place  and  taking  something  away  in  another," 

Thus  we  see  that  our  author  regarded  the  Athenian 
democracy  as  a  finished  work  of  art.  If  it  was  to  fulfil  its 
aim  of  satisfying  the  masses,  its  essentials  must  remain 
unchanged.  At  the  same  time  there  is  no  attempt  to 
disguise  the  fact  that  "  baseness  and  ignorance "  were 
rampant,  and  that  "  madmen  "  played  the  chief  parts  in 
the  council  and  in  the  popular  assembly.  This  opinion 
was  rather  over-emphasized  than  otherwise,  but  the  readers 
were  given  to  suppose  that  the  populace  was  right  in  pro- 
secuting its  own  interests,  and  was  better  served  by  the 
"  ignorance,  baseness,  and  good-will  "  of  its  present 
authorities  than  by  the  "  virtue,  wisdom,  and  ill-will "  of 
the  "  good  "  or  "  noble."  All  the  same,  the  best  constitu- 
tion would  not  be  obtained  by  such  conduct,  though  it 
afforded  the  best  guarantee  for  the  preservation  of  the 
democracy. 

"  For  the  people  do  not  want,"  wrote  our  author,  "  in  a  lawfully 
administered  state,  to  be  the  bond-slaves  of  their  rulers,  but  they 
claim  freedom  and  supremacy.  Out  of  the  very  circumstances  which 
thou  regardest  as  the  travesty  of  law  and  order  the  people  derive 
the  sources  of  their  strength  and  freedom." 

We  need  hardly  point  out  that,  despite  the  apparent 
objectivity  and  actuality  of  these  political  arguments,  they 
are  yet  largely  the  reasoning  of  an  embittered  doctrinaire, 
or  rather  of  a  man  cloaking  his  bitterness  in  a  doctrinal 
disguise.  How  would  it  have  been,  for  example,  if  the 
ignorance,  the  baseness,  and  the  madness  of  the  rulers  had 
endangered  the  power  of  the  state,  and  had  led  to  the 
loss  of  the  fleet,  the  tributes,  and  of  the  empire  itself?  How 
would  it  then  have  been  with  the  advantage  of  the  populace, 
which  was  supposed  to  be  so  well  protected  .-•  The  truth 
is  that,  though  our  oligarch  hit  the  bull's-eye  in  many 
single  instances,  yet  he  wrote  with  a  biassed  mind.  His 
reason    was    subservient   throughout    to    his    passion    as  a 


502  GREEK   THINKERS. 

partisan,  the  subtlety  of  his  mind  was  the  instrument  of  his 
gall.  The  Athenian  democracy  in  every  respect  and  in 
every  sense  of  the  word  was  to  be  incapable  of  improve- 
ment. Its  worst  evils,  and  those  which  pressed  most 
heavily  on  members  of  the  author's  class  and  party,  were 
to  be  exposed  without  exception  as  the  inevitable  con- 
sequences of  the  ruling  principle  of  the  state.  It  was  his 
pleasure  to  condemn  the  Athenian  constitution  root  and 
branch,  to  strike  at  the  very  pulse  of  its  existence.  Reading 
between  the  lines  of  his  treatise,  we  can  conceive  him 
warning  his  friends  to  put  no  faith  in  reform,  and  to 
expect  nothing  from  compromise.  He  would  have  told 
them  that  what  in  their  view  were  occasional  mistakes, 
accidental  evils,  and  temporary  signs  of  decay,  were  really 
manifestations  of  the  one  fatal  principle  of  the  common- 
wealth. With  that  principle  the  prosperity  of  the  multitude 
must  stand  or  fall,  and  therefore  the  multitude  would 
support  it  at  all  times  and  at  every  cost.  Hence  he  would 
have  urged  them  to  avoid  all  half-measures  and  to  attempt 
nothing  precipitate  ;  above  all,  to  beware  of  striking  at 
the  wrong  time  and  with  inadequate  forces.  If  the  great 
blow  were  ever  to  be  struck,  it  would  have  to  be  final  and 
decisive,  and  to  get  rid  once  for  all  of  what  the  factious 
language  of  the  times  described  as  the  "accursed  Demos." 
So  he  would  have  bid  them  close  their  ranks  and  arm 
their  persons  and  provide  themselves  with  sturdy  allies, 
"  for  " — and  here  we  may  quote  the  ipsissima  verba  of  our 
author — "  for  no  few  are  wanted  to  make  an  end  once 
for  all  of  the  Athenian  popular  supremacy." 

3.  This  extraordinary  product  of  political  passion  and 
political  reason  was  first  published  in  424  B.C.  The  date 
has  another  significance.  It  was  the  year  in  which  leisure 
for  the  completion  of  his  lifework  descended  on  a  man 
whose  nature  contained  practically  the  same  elements, 
though  they  were  developed  to  a  far  greater  splendour  and 
mingled  in  far  more  wholesome  proportions.  The  leisure, 
it  must  be  added,  was  not  voluntary.  Thucydides,  son  of 
Olorus,  was  a  man  of  considerable  wealth,  and  of  noble 
origin,  in  whose  veins  Thracian  blood  flowed    as  well  as 


THUCYDIDES.  503 

Greek.  At  the  time  of  the  siege  of  Amphipolis  he  was 
in  command  of  a  naval  division  stationed  at  the  island  of 
Thasos,  and  he  failed  to  bring  his  ships  quickly  enough 
to  the  relief  of  the  beleaguered  city.  His  failure  was 
punished  by  a  twenty  years'  exile,  which  he  employed 
partly  in  preliminary  travel,  and  partly  in  completing, 
at  his  country-house  on  the  Thracian  coast,  the  work 
which  possesses  an  indisputable  and  seldom  disputed 
claim  to  rank  as  the  greatest  historical  monument  of 
antiquity.  It  is  our  intention  to  glance  as  rapidly  as  we 
can  at  the  spirit  of  Thucydides  as  an  historian,  at  his 
methods  of  historical  research,  and  at  other  points  of 
capital  interest  to  the  purpose  of  our  studies.  And  if  we 
should  make  a  somewhat  longer  pause  than  is  absolutely 
necessary  at  the  name  of  the  great  Athenian  and  his  im- 
mortal legacy,  our  readers  may  account  it  to  us  for  righteous- 
ness. For  here  we  have  reached  a  veritable  peak  of 
intellectual  development.  We  are  standing  on  the  table- 
lands of  earnest  truth,  on  the  summits  of  richly  dowered 
thought,  and  on  the  heights  of  artistic  power. 

There  is  hardly  any  pair  of  contemporaries  who  offer  a 
more  glaring  contrast  than  Herodotus  and  Thucydides. 
Barely  a  score  of  years  divided  their  works  from  one 
another,  but  a  gulf  of  centuries  seems  to  yawn  between 
their  temper  and  inspiration.  Herodotus  creates  through- 
out an  entirely  old-fashioned  impression  ;  Thucydides  is  a 
modern  of  the  moderns.  He  made  a  clean  sweep  of  the 
poetical  and  religious  bias,  the  legendary  and  novelistic 
sympathies,  and  the  primitive  beliefs,  rarely  mitigated  by 
the  light  of  criticism,  which  marked  the  elder  historian. 
The  gaze  of  Thucydides  was  primarily  fixed  on  the  political 
factors,  on  the  actual  relations  of  forces,  on  the  natural 
foundation,  so  to  speak,  of  historical  phenomena.  He 
looked  for  their  springs,  not  in  the  dispensations  of  super- 
natural beings,  nor  yet,  except  in  a  moderate  degree,  in 
the  caprices  and  passions  of  individual  men.  Behind  those 
he  always  sought  for  the  universal  forces  that  animated 
them,  for  the  conditions  of  the  peoples,  and  the  interests  of 
the  states.    Thus  he  prefaced  his  discussion  of  all  the  points 


504  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  difference  which  led  to  the  Peloponnesian  war  by  the 
pregnant  observation — 

"  The  real  though  unavowed  cause  (of  the  war)  I  beUeve  to 
have  been  the  growth  of  the  Athenian  power,  which  terrified  the 
Lacedaemonians  and  forced  them  into  war,"  * 

His  biographer  states  that  he  was  a  pupil  of  Anaxagoras, 
the  mechanical  physicist,  and  the  report,  whether  true  or 
not,  is  fully  in  harmony  with  his  view  of  the  world  as 
well  as  with  his  treatment  of  history.  It  was  his  con- 
stant endeavour  to  describe  the  course  of  human  affairs  as 
though  it  were  a  process  of  nature  informed  by  the  light  of 
inexorable  causality.  His  pursuit  of  strict  objectivity  was 
so  keen  that  long  passages  of  his  work  may  be  read  without 
obtaining  a  hint  to  which  side  his  favour  inclined,  and  to 
which  side  his  disfavour.  Yet  his  power  of  dispassionate 
narration  is  no  proof  of  the  absence  of  passion.  No  one 
can  doubt  this  who  knows  that  complete  devotion  to 
human  affairs,  and  their  faithful  reproduction,  can  only 
successfully  be  founded  on  an  intense  and  absorbing 
personal  interest.  Moreover,  it  is  not  in  isolated  instances 
alone  that  the  objective  tranquillity  which  Thucydides  so 
carefully  preserved  was  interrupted  by  a  sudden  outcry 
of  emotion  ;  his  description  of  the  fatal  Sicilian  expedition 
affects  us  with  the  pathos  of  tragedy. 

Herodotus  wrote  history  "in  order,"  in  his  own  words, 
*'  that  the  actions  of  men  may  not  be  effaced  by  time,  nor 
the  great  and  wondrous  deeds  .  .  .  deprived  of  renown."  f 
Nor  is  there  any  doubt  that  Thucydides,  in  his  inmost 
soul,  was  moved  by  similar  impulses.  But  in  the 
foreground  of  his  narrative,  as  though  in  self-justification, 
he  wrote — 

"  But  if  he  who  desires  to  have  before  his  eyes  a  true  picture 
of  the  events  which  have  happened,  and  of  the  like  events  which 
may  be  expected  to  happen  hereafter  in  the  order  of  human 
things,  shall  pronounce  what  I  have  written  to  be  useful,  then  I 
shall  be  satisfied."  % 

*  Thuc,  i.  23  :  trans.  Jowett.         f  Herod.,  i.  i  :  trans.  Cary. 
\  Thuc,  i.  22:  trans.  Jowett. 


END   AND   MEANS    OF  HIS   HISTORY.  505 

In  this  sense,  and  because  he  was  conscious  that  the 
rejection  of  all  legendary  issues  had  made  his  work 
less  "  fascinating,"  he  spoke  of  it  with  strong  but  just 
self-respect  as  "an  everlasting  possession,  not  a  prize 
composition  which  is  heard  and  forgotten."  *  The  strict 
sobriety  in  the  demarcation  of  his  purpose  was  reproduced 
by  Thucydides  when  he  came  to  choose  the  means  to  his 
end.  Surprise  has  recently  been  expressed  that  he  pre- 
ferred to  deal  with  a  short  span  of  contemporary  history 
rather  than  to  fill  his  canvas  with  pictures  of  universal 
historical  interest.  But  the  historian  has  returned  his  own 
reply  to  such  expressions  of  surprise.  Again  and  again 
he  bitterly  complained  of  the  difficulty  of  attaining  complete 
accuracy  about  the  events  even  of  his  own  day : — 

"  Of  the  events  of  the  war  I  have  not  ventured  to  speak  from 
any  chance  information,  nor  according  to  any  notion  of  my  own.t 
I  have  described  nothing,"  he  continued,  "  but  what  I  either  saw 
myself,  or  learned  from  others  of  whom  I  made  the  most  careful 
and  particular  inquiry.  The  task  was  a  laborious  one,  because 
eye-witnesses  of  the  same  occurrences  gave  different  accounts 
of  them,  as  they  remembered  or  were  interested  in  the  actions 
of  one  side  or  the  other."  * 

Bitter  indeed  is  the  complaint  :  "  So  little  trouble  do 
men  take  in  the  search  after  truth  ;  so  readily  do  they 
accept  whatever  comes  first  to  hand  "  (recalling  Bacon's 
ex  Us  quce  prcesto  stent).  With  that  delight  in  criticism 
which  the  Greeks  seemed  to  imbibe  with  their  mothers' 
milk,  and  the  influence  of  which  Herodotus  himself, 
good-humoured  though  he  was,  did  not  escape  in  respect 
to  his  predecessor  Hecata".:3,  Thucydides  likewise  was 
infected.  He  sought  out  errors  which  Herodotus  had 
committed  with  special  reference  to  Spartan  institutions,  and 
accompanied  them  with  the  remark  that  "there  are  many 
other  matters,  not  obscured  by  time,  but  contemporary, 
about  which  the  other  Hellenes  are  equally  mistaken."  + 

*  Thuc,  i.  22  :  trans.  Jowett. 

t  Cp.  the  Preface  of  Hecata^us,  Bk.  II.  Ch.  VI.  §  i. 

X  Thuc,  i.  20:  trans.  Jowett. 


506  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Nevertheless,  Thucydides  could  not  or  would  not 
altogether  avoid  the  claims  of  the  history  of  dim 
antiquity.  On  such  occasions,  his  method  was  marked 
by  certain  peculiarities,  which  require  to  be  characterized. 
Two  essential  points  may  be  mentioned.  Thucydides 
was  the  first  historian  to  employ  the  method  of  inverse 
deduction.  When  trustworthy  authority  failed  him,  he 
would  argue  back  from  the  conditions  and  institutions 
— even  the  names — of  the  present  to  those  of  times  past. 
Thus,  in  seeking  to  establish  the  fact  that  the  room  occupied 
by  the  Acropolis  at  Athens  had  once  contained  the  whole 
city,  he  reminded  his  readers  of  the  vernacular  usage  by 
which  the  word  "city,"  or  Polis,  signified  Acropolis,  or 
"the  city  on  a  height."  And  a  similar  purpose  inspired 
the  second  fact  quoted  by  him  in  this  connection,  namely, 
that  the  most  important  shrines  of  the  gods  were  partly 
included  in  that  district  and  partly  found  in  its  im- 
mediate neighbourhood,  and  that  certain  religious  rites 
were  associated  with  a  spring  situated  in  that  spot.  The 
same  method  may  be  observed  in  Aristotle's  constitutional 
treatise,  which  has  been  discovered  in  quite  recent  times. 
The  second  point  to  be  noted  is  the  use  made  by  Thu- 
cydides— and  by  him  first  of  all — of  the  present  conditions 
of  less  highly  developed  peoples  to  illustrate  the  earlier 
stages  of  civilization  of  more  advanced  communities.  The 
historians  of  morality,  religion,  and  law  in  our  own  day 
employ  them  to  the  full  extent  of  their  capacity,  and  have 
brought  the  study  of  ethnology  into  close  connection  with 
that  of  prehistoric  man.  In  Central  Brazil,  for  instance, 
there  is  still  an  actual  "  Stone  Age,"  and  the  pile-work 
in  the  New  Guinea  of  to-day  recalls  the  similar  buildings 
in  prehistoric  Europe.  At  this  point  we  may  give  an 
instance  of  the  comparative  method  of  Thucydides. 
Nestor  in  the  Odyssey,  in  questioning  Telemachus,  on 
his  arrival  at  Pylos,  about  the  objects  of  his  voyage, 
mentions  piracy  in  the  same  breath  as  the  business  of 
commerce,  and  with  no  trace  of  moral  disapproval.  The 
courtly  savants  of  Alexandria  and  the  dry-as-dust  scholars 
of   the  nineteenth    century  have    vied   with   one    another 


THUCYDIDES  AND    THE   LEGENDS.  507 

in  their  painful  astonishment  at  the  state  of  Nestor's 
conscience,  and  in  their  attempts  to  explain  it  away.  The 
first  had  lost  their  sympathy  with  the  nafve  primitiveness 
of  the  ancients,  and  the  second  had  not  yet  regained  it. 
In  this  respect  Thucydides  stood  on  a  pinnacle  above 
them  both.  He  had  no  intention  or  desire  to  force  the 
Homeric  verses  into  a  Procrustean  bed  of  meaning. 
He  was  rather  at  pains  to  shed  a  brilliant  light  on  the 
rude  minds  of  Homeric  heroes  by  comparing  them 
with  the  modes  of  life  and  sentiment  among  backward 
Greek  tribes  of  his  own  day.  For  here,  as  in  other 
passages,  he  was  true  to  his  principle  of  vivifying  and 
enriching  his  picture  of  antiquity  by  appropriate  parallels. 
No  doubt  can  subsist  as  to  the  legitimacy  of  this  use 
of  the  evidence  of  Homer.  If  popular  poems  can  tell 
us  nothing  else  with  certainty,  at  least  they  afford  trust- 
worthy evidence  of  the  sentiment  of  those  for  whom  they 
were  intended.  But  Thucydides  went  further.  He 
summoned  the  Homeric  poems  to  the  bar  of  history 
in  his  attempt  to  reconstruct  the  early  annals  of  Greece. 
And  if  we  measure  that  attempt  by  modern  canons  of 
criticism,  we  are  constrained  to  arraign  Thucydides, 
with  Herodotus,  on  the  charge  of  adopting  the  semi- 
historical  method.  But  at  least  he  erred  in  good 
company.  To  the  names  of  Hecatseus  and  Herodotus 
must  be  added  that  of  Aristotle  and  those  of  almost  all 
the  thinkers  and  authors  of  antiquity.  We  may  ac- 
cordingly try  to  fix  more  precisely  the  point  of  view 
from  which  Thucydides  surveyed  his  theme.  He  believed 
on  the  whole  in  the  historical  reality  of  the  human 
personages  and  of  their  deeds  mentioned  in  the  epic 
poems ;  and  to  a  certain  extent  in  legend  generally. 
Hellen,  the  ancestor  of  the  Hellenic  race,  was  as  good  an 
historical  personage  for  Thucydides  as  Ion,  the  ancestor 
of  the  lonians,  was  for  Aristotle.  So  far,  then,  the  issues 
are  quite  clear.  We  are  justified  of  our  scepticism, 
and  even  the  most  critical  of  the  Greeks  were  the  victims 
of  their  own  credulity.  But  when  we  come  to  the  race 
of  the  Atridse,  to  Agamemnon,  and  to  the  Trojan  War,  we 


5o8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

cannot  speak  with  equal  certainty.  Scholarship  at  least 
has  not  yet  said  its  last  word  on  these  matters.  It  is  the 
habit  of  heroic  legends  in  the  great  majority  of  instances 
to  go  to  reality  for  their  central  figures  and  their  chief 
events,  however  freely  they  may  subsequently  deal  with 
them.  The  mediaeval  epicists  in  France,  for  example, 
turned  the  ages  upside  down  and  made  Charlemagne 
participate  in  the  Crusades.  But  despite  this  violence  to 
chronology,  they  cannot  be  said  to  have  invented  either 
Charlemagne  or  the  Crusades,  nor  yet  to  have  borrowed 
them  from  the  storehouse  of  mythology.  And  when  we 
revert  to  the  method  of  Thucydides,  we  find  that  his 
faithfulness  to  tradition  was  limited  to  the  principal 
features  displayed  by  the  narratives  of  the  poets.  Again 
and  again  he  expressed  in  emphatic  language  his  distrust 
of  the  details  of  their  stories,  and  he  never  lent  the  least 
favour  to  the  method  of  historical  patchwork  so  much 
beloved  by  his  predecessors.  It  was  not  his  purpose  to 
transform,  nor  to  harmonize,  but  rather  to  supplement  the 
materials  with  which  he  dealt.  He  was  clearly  convinced 
that  he  had  no  means  at  his  disposal  which  would  enable 
him  to  extract  anything  like  a  trustworthy  picture  of  the 
distant  past  from  the  embellishments,  exaggerations,  and 
disfigurements  of  the  poets.  Accordingly  he  struck  out  a 
wholly  new  path  of  investigation,  and  pursued  it  in  a 
manner  which  testifies  at  once  to  the  depth  of  his  insight 
and  the  breadth  of  his  mental  horizon.  The  great 
instrument  which  the  historian  employed,  without  fear, 
but  without  temerity,  was  the  deductive  method,  in  the 
sole  form  in  which  it  is  adapted  to  unravel  the  problems 
of  history,  namely,  as  inverse  deduction.  This,  then, 
was  the  equipment  of  Thucydides.  He  was,  further, 
gifted  with  a  faculty  of  vision,  to  which  nothing  was  too 
great  or  too  small,  and  he  was  free  from  every  bias  and 
limitation  of  national  conceit  or  flattering  predilection. 
Dowered  with  these  advantages,  and  employing  the  handful 
of  data  which  he  considered  trustworthy,  he  succeeded  in 
producing  a  sketch  of  the  earliest  stages  of  Greek  evolution, 
which  in  its  outline  is  certainly  correct.     We  may  briefly 


TREATMENT  OF  PREHISTORIC   TIMES.        509 

summarize  its  chief  features.  It  showed  that  the  Greeks 
were  late  in  evolving  the  consciousness  of  national 
unity ;  that  in  an  earlier  phase  of  their  civilization 
they  were  hardly  distinguishable  from  the  Barbarians 
or  non-Greeks  ;  that  pillage  and  piracy  by  land  and 
by  sea  afforded  them  a  chief  means  of  subsistence  ;  and 
that  their  advance  was  retarded  for  a  long  time  by 
the  difficulties  of  intercourse  and  by  the  sparseness  and 
poverty  of  the  population.  Moreover,  the  evidence  was 
adduced,  and  skilfully  employed,  of  the  changes  effected  in 
course  of  time  in  the  situation  of  cities,  of  the  gradual 
progress  in  the  art  of  shipbuilding,  of  the  fashion  in  clothing 
and  headgear,  and  of  the  alterations  in  the  garb  of  the 
competitors  at  the  Olympic  games.  Nor  did  Thucydides 
omit  to  mention  the  sterility  of  the  soil  of  Attica,  the 
security  thus  guaranteed  from  foreign  attack,*  and  the 
stability  which  was  thus  afforded — a  stability  favourable 
in  turn  to  the  immigration  of  foreign  families,  with  its 
natural  consequence  in  the  more  rapid  increase  of  popu- 
lation, and  the  eventual  colonization  of  Ionia.  Similarly, 
he  noted  the  diminished  sedentary  habit  and  the  increased 
love  of  wandering  among  Greek  tribes,  due  to  the  lack  of 
regular  agriculture  ;  he  was  aware  of  the  change  of 
proprietors  which  fell  most  frequently  on  the  most  fertile 
regions ;  and  he  remarked  how  the  increase  of  wealth 
assisted  the  transformation  of  the  patriarchal  monarchy 
into  the  so-called  tyranny.  With  the  foregoing  examples 
we  may  fitly  illustrate  the  deductive  method  as  employed 
by  Thucydides,  and  the  conclusions  to  which  it  led  him. 

4.  The  attitude  of  our  historian  towards  the  poets  in 
their  accounts  of  human  events  and  natural  contingencies 
may  be  described  as  one  of  cool  scepticism.  In  respect 
to  their  tales  of  gods  and  miracles,  however,  his  distrust 
rose  to  absolute  repudiation.  Moreover,  it  is  apparent 
that  he  belonged  to  a  circle  of  thoughtful  minds  within 
which  this  disbelief  passed  as  something  self-evident  and 
not  requiring  any  special  mention  or  justification.  There 
is  no  trace,  for  example,  of  the  boisterous  tone  in  which 
•   Cp.  Introd.,  §  i. 


5IO  GREEK   THINKERS. 

Herodotus  contested  the  truth  of  some  of  the  tales  which 
he  considered  incredible.  Thucydides  obviously  never  con- 
ceived the  possibility  that  he  could  be  suspected  of  giving 
credence  to  an  interruption  of  the  course  of  nature.  Accord- 
ingly he  treated  the  oracles  and  soothsayers  with  chilling 
contempt,  sometimes  diversified  by  biting  satire.  Moreover, 
he  was  thoroughly  aware  of  the  weaknesses  of  the  mind 
which  foster  such  superstitions,  and  he  characterized  them 
in  places  with  a  brilliant  word.  Thus  when  the  outbreak  of 
the  plague  at  Athens  increased  the  sufferings  of  war,  some 
people  remembered  an  alleged  ancient  oracle  which  ran  : 
"A  Dorian  war  will  come,  and  a  plague  with  it."  This 
saying  led,  according  to  the  historian's  account,  to  a  conflict 
of  opinions,  some  people  maintaining  that  the  verse  referred 
to  linios  {"  a  famine  ")  and  not  to  louiios  ("  a  plague  ")  : — 

"  Nevertheless,  as  might  have  been  expected,  for  men's  memories 
reflected  their  sufferings,  the  argument  in  favour  of  loiinos  prevailed 
at  the  time.  But  if  ever  in  future  years  another  Dorian  war  arises 
which  happens  to  be  accompanied  by  a  famine,  they  will  probably 
repeat  the  verse  in  the  other  form."  * 

Nor  was  the  destructive  satire  of  Thucydides  confined  to 
a  piece  of  anonymous  vaticination.  He  expressed  himself 
with  equal  emphasis  about  an  oracle  of  the  Pythian  god. 
When  the  people  streamed  into  Athens  from  the  country- 
side devastated  by  the  Peloponnesians,  the  so-called  Pelasgic 
or  Pelargic  field  to  the  north-west  of  the  Acropolis  was 
also  invaded  by  the  fugitives,  despite  an  ancient  oracle 
prohibiting  such  occupation.  Necessity  took  no  account 
of  the  divine  prohibition,  but  its  violation  was  presently 
burdened  with  a  part  of  the  guilt  for  the  heavy  calamities 
with  which  Athens  was  afflicted  : — 

"  And  to  my  mind  the  oracle  came  true  in  a  sense  exactly  contrary 
to  the  popular  expectation  ;  for  the  unlawful  occupation  to  which 
men  were  driven  was  not  the  cause  of  the  calamities  which  befel  the 
city,  but  the  war  was  the  cause  of  the  occupation ;  and  the  oracle 
without  mentioning  the  war  foresaw  that  the  place  would  be  in- 
habited some  day  for  no  good."  f 

*  Thuc,  ii.  54 :  trans.  Jowett. 

t  Thuc,  ii.  17:  trans.  Jowett. 


ATTITUDE    TO   POPULAR  RELIGION.  51I 

And  Thucydides  denounced  not  merely  as  baseless,  but 
as  positively  hurtful,  the  superstitious 

"  error  of  which  so  many  are  guilty,  who,  although  they  might  still 
be  saved  if  they  would  take  the  natural  means,  when  visible  grounds 
of  confidence  forsake  them,  have  recourse  to  the  invisible,  to 
prophecies  and  oracles  and  the  like,  which  ruin  men  by  the  hopes 
which  they  inspire  in  them."  * 

Bearing  these  and  kindred  utterances  in  mind,  we  may 
fairly  assume  that  the  historian's  mention  of  the  sole  piece 
of  prophecy  which  he  knew  has  been  fulfilled — that, 
namely,  which  stated  that  the  Peloponnesian  war  "would 
last  thrice  nine  years  " — was  merely  intended  to  point  to  a 
noteworthy  coincidence.  Much  the  same  explanation  applies 
to  the  catalogue  of  natural  occurrences  partly  ominous  and 
threatening  in  character,  and  partly  destructive,  which  ac- 
companied the  course  of  the  great  war  and  enhanced  its 
terrors.  At  that  point  of  his  exordium  Thucydides  stood 
on  the  threshold  of  the  mighty  drama  on  which  the  curtain 
was  to  be  raised.  He  was  ready  to  turn  the  limelight  on 
the  majesty  and  greatness  of  the  period  to  which  he  had 
consecrated  his  pen,  and  it  would  have  been  wholly  inappro- 
priate in  that  place  to  introduce  a  recommendation  to 
caution.  At  another  time  he  did  not  withhold  it.  When 
he  was  telling  his  readers  of  the  prophecies  of  the  sooth- 
sayers and  of  the  earthquake  at  Delos,  which,  as  was  "gene- 
rally believed,"  presaged  the  outbreak  of  war,  Thucydides 
did  not  omit  to  utter  the  pregnant  hint,  "and  everything 
of  the  sort  which  occurred  was  curiously  noted."  f 

It  is  perfectly  obvious  by  this  time  that  the  great 
Athenian  had  been  thoroughly  alienated  from  the  faith  of 
his  countrymen.  The  word  "  mythical  "  on  his  lips  carried 
the  same  derogatory  sense  as  on  the  lips  of  Epicurus.  It 
would  be  interesting  to  know,  however,  not  what  he  denied, 
but  what  he  affirmed  ;  above  all,  what  attitude  he  took 
towards  the  great  problems  of  universal  origin  and  govern- 
ment.    There  is  no  word  in  his  works  from  which  his  views 

*  Thuc,  V.  103  :  trans.  Jowett. 
t  Thuc,  ii.  8  :  trans.  Jowett. 


512  GREEK    THINKERS. 

on  those  subjects  may  be  gathered.  We  have  already 
sufficiently  shown  that  he  did  not  subscribe  to  the  belief 
in  supernatural  interventions.  He  was  fond  of  tracing 
back  to  their  natural  causes  phenomena  which  had  been 
regarded  as  miraculous  or  at  least  as  significant.  In 
this  manner  he  disposed  of  eclipses,  thunderstorms, 
floods,  and  the  vortex  of  Charybdis  ;  and  apart  altogether 
from  his  campaign  against  superstition,  he  was  admirably 
fitted  by  taste  and  endowment  for  the  observation  and 
interpretation  of  nature.  In  this  connection  we  need 
but  recall  his  extremely  careful  discussion  of  the  geo- 
graphical conditions  which  brought  the  group  of  islands 
situated  near  the  mouth  of  the  Achelous  ever  nearer  and 
nearer  to  the  mainland,  or,  again,  his  masterly  description 
of  the  plague  at  Athens  which  has  been  the  admiration  of 
experts  in  every  age.  In  so  far,  then,  we  may  assume 
that  the  sympathies  of  Thucydides  tended  to  the  physicists 
and  the  "  meteorologists,"  and  we  must  regard  it  as 
an  especial  boon  that  he  preferred,  notwithstanding,  his- 
toriography to  physics.  But  we  can  scarcely  assume 
that  he  was  satisfied  for  any  length  of  time  with  either  of 
the  attempts  then  hanging  in  the  balance  to  solve  the  great 
riddle  of  the  universe,  whether  with  that  of  Leucippus  or 
with  that  of  Anaxagoras.  His  repugnance  to  both  would 
probably  have  been  due  not  so  much  to  their  divergence 
from  the  tenets  of  popular  religion  as  to  their  intrinsic 
boldness  and  undemonstrableness.  Thucydides  himself 
complained  that  it  was  impossible  to  obtain  information  on 
the  course  of  a  battle  from  the  depositions  of  soldiers  on 
both  sides  who  had  participated  in  it.  Every  one,  he  re- 
marked, could  only  accurately  relate  the  events  in  his  imme- 
diate neighbourhood.  And,  guided  by  this  attitude,  we  may 
fairly  assume  that  he  would  have  withheld  his  assent  from 
the  philosophers  who  presumed  to  report  on  the  origin  of 
the  universe  with  the  circumstantial  precision  of  an  eye- 
witness. Doubtless  Thucydides  gave  his  deep  attention  to 
the  greatest  questions  which  can  occupy  the  human  mind,  but 
we  can  best  characterize  the  results  of  his  long  and  earnest 
thought  as  a  halting  suspension  of  judgment. 


THE   ARTIFICE    OF  SPEECHES.  513 

Thucydides  was  absolutely  tireless  in  his  search  for 
truth.  He  shrank  in  its  pursuit  from  no  sacrifice  and  from 
no  trouble,  and  this  devotion,  together  with  the  high 
standard  which  he  maintained,  is  perhaps  the  most  promi- 
nent feature  in  the  historian's  character.  He  was  anxious 
to  preserve  the  artistic  finish  of  his  work,  but  his  anxiety 
did  not  prevent  him  from  occasionally  breaking  its  bounds, 
nor  even  from  destroying  the  level  flow  of  his  language  in 
order  to  give  his  readers  full  authentic  information  on 
important  documentary  evidence.  Among  such  interrup- 
tions may  be  mentioned  the  report  of  a  general,  and  some 
treaty  Acts  composed  partly  in  the  Dorian  dialect.  A 
possible  objection  may  be  urged  at  this  point.  Apart  from  a 
few  petty  mistakes,  which  merely  prove  the  superfluous  point 
that  Thucydides  too  was  a  fallible  mortal,  it  may  be  asked 
how  the  high  estimate  we  have  formed  of  the  veracity  of  the 
historian  is  compatible  with  his  frequent  habit  of  reporting 
speeches  of  historical  personages  when  a  faithful  reproduc- 
tion of  their  words  was  actually  impossible.  The  answer 
lies  ready  to  hand.  It  is  supplied  by  the  historian  himself 
in  a  prominent  place  in  his  work,  where  he  explained  his 
attitude  in  this  matter  in  a  way  which  was  designed  and 
suited  to  prevent  all  misconception.  He  aimed,  we  are 
there  informed,  at  the  utmost  conceivable  "exactness"  in 
his  description  of  events,  but  in  his  reproduction  of  speeches 
he  renounced  that  aim  as  unattainable.  In  such  cases  he 
was  content  to  arrive  at  an  "  approximate  "  objective  truth, 
or  even  at  nothing  but  an  inner  verisimilitude  corre- 
sponding to  the  respective  situation  and  character  of  the 
speaker.  Thus  he  developed  his  interpolation  of  speeches 
into  the  great  artistic  instrument  by  which  he  was  enabled 
to  infuse  a  soul  into  the  body  of  history. 

5.  Nothing  is  more  wonderful  than  the  use  which 
Thucydides  made  of  this  artifice,  which,  though  he  did  not 
discover  it,  he  was  the  first  to  use  in  the  grand  style.  He 
employed  it  for  two  purposes  apart  from  its  dramatic  value 
in  animating  the  narrative.  First,  it  served  to  characterize 
the  speaker,  and,  secondly,  to  communicate  the  author's 
thought.     It  was  a  very  considerable  aid  to  the  sharpness 

VOL.    I.  2  L 


514  GREEK   THINKERS. 

of  characterization  that  the  speeches  were  mostly  introduced 
as  portions  of  a  debate,  in  which  opposite  tendencies  were 
played  off  on  one  another,  thus  frequently  producing  a 
marked  effect  of  contrast.  We  may  instance  as  a  type  of 
this  method  the  speeches  delivered  by  Alcibiades  and 
Nicias  in  the  popular  assembly  at  Athens  on  the  Sicilian 
Expedition.  Every  word  spoken  by  Alcibiades  bore  wit- 
ness to  the  fire,  the  impetuosity,  and  the  high  aspirations 
of  that  passionate  genius,  and  deepened  the  effect  of  the 
cautious  judgment  and  caustic  wit  of  the  experienced  old 
man  whose  strength  in  criticism  was  shortly  to  be 
matched  by  his  weakness  in  action.  Sometimes,  too,  a 
character  is  revealed  to  us  as  much  by  its  silence  as  by 
its  speech.  It  cannot  possibly  be  due  to  chance  that 
the  magnificent  funeral  oration  of  Pericles,  which  in- 
evitably included  some  concessions  to  convention  in 
addition  to  its  nobler  contents,  should  have  omitted 
all  allusion  to  the  figures  of  the  popular  religion.  The 
omission  was  obviously  intentional,  and  we  recognize  the 
historian's  wish  to  characterize  the  free-thinking  pupil  of 
Anaxagoras  in  his  true  colours  as  the  champion  of  philo- 
sophic doubt  in  respect  to  the  whole  system  of  mythology. 
Finally,  it  was  not  merely  individuals  who  were  distin- 
guished by  the  manner  of  their  speech,  but  Thucydides 
used  the  same  means  to  typify  classes  and  nations.  Thus 
the  passionate  but  unintellectual  Boeotians  were  made  to 
deliver  speeches, appealing  to  the  feelings  rather  than  to  the 
reason  of  their  audience  ;  and  when  a  Spartan  plebeian, 
such  as  the  Ephor  Sthenelaidas,  was  introduced,  he  was 
characterized  not  merely  by  his  laconic  pithiness  of 
expression,  but  also  by  the  homely  and  ready  mother-wit 
which  was  the  common  heritage  of  the  Dorian  race. 

We  pass  from  the  purpose  of  characterization  aimed  at 
by  the  introduction  of  speeches  to  that  of  the  communica- 
tion of  the  author's  own  thought.  And  here  it  is  almost 
impossible  to  avoid  the  appearance  of  exaggeration  in  any 
attempt  to  do  justice  to  the  historian's  success  in  creating 
an  inexhaustible  storehouse  of  ideas  without  unduly 
obtruding    his    own    personality.     For   keen   observations, 


ITS    TWOFOLD   PURPOSE. 


Di^) 


penetrating  proofs,  and  maxims  of  enduring  validity  are 
presented  in  extraordinary  profusion.  To  find  a  parallel  to 
this  treasury  of  political  wisdom  we  must  go  to  the  works 
of  Machiavelli.  And  even  that  comparison  will  be  found 
to  be  in  favour  of  the  Athenian  rather  than  of  the  Floren- 
tine, if  we  take  the  circumstance  in  account  that  every 
reflection  in  Thucydides  arose  spontaneously  out  of  its  his- 
torical environment,  and  was  free  from  all  traces  of  dry 
and  systematic  didacticism.  And  sometimes,  too,  the 
occasional  speeches  in  Thucydides  open  out  into  philo- 
sophic discussions  of  the  most  comprehensive  kind.  In  an 
earlier  chapter  of  this  work  we  have  expressed  our  opinion 
that  Protagoras  was  the  earliest  champion  of  the  deterrent 
theory  of  punishment.  It  is  appropriate  accordingly  to 
remark  that  Thucydides  took  a  suitable  opportunity  to 
combat  this  doctrine  by  an  incisive  oration  placed  in  the 
mouth  of  Diodotus  the  Athenian,  and  directed  perhaps 
against  Protagoras  himself.  The  topic  then  under  discus- 
sion was  the  penalty  to  be  meted  out  to  the  Lesbian  rebels, 
and  Diodotus  drew  an  incomparable  picture  of  the  irre- 
sistible force  of  passion  and  of  its  subversive  influence  on 
the  evildoer's  judgment.  In  other  cases  Thucydides  sub- 
stituted for  a  systematic  treatment  scattered  passages  of 
description  up  and  down  the  pages  of  his  work  which  the 
intelligent  reader  could  collect  into  a  complete  account. 
Of  such  a  kind  is  his  description  of  the  character  of  the 
Athenian  people. 

It  might  be  expected  that  the  two  objects  served  by 
the  artifice  of  historical  speeches  should  occasionally  have 
defeated  each  other,  especially  that  the  exposition  of  the 
author's  thoughts  should  have  been  injurious  to  the  charac- 
terization. Thucydides  had  so  much  to  tell  us  that  it  would 
not  be  surprising  if  he  should  sometimes  have  chosen  an 
unsuitable  mouthpiece.  It  was  difficult,  too,  if  not  impos- 
sible, to  attain  complete  harmony  in  that  respect,  inasmuch 
as  the  situations  which  suggested  certain  lines  of  thought 
and  invited  their  development,  and  the  personages  in  whose 
mouths  they  were  placed,  were  alike  circumscriljcd  by  actual 
and  given  conditions.     We  do  not  contend  that  Thucydides 


5l6  GREEK   THINKERS. 

was  never  beaten  by  this  difficulty,  but  we  do  venture  to 
contend  that  he  succumbed  to  it  merely  in  isolated  instances, 
that  the  circumstances  of  his  defeat,  moreover,  have 
an  especial  attraction  of  their  own,  and  are  full  of  the  most 
welcome  instruction.  For  through  such  flaws  in  the  edifice 
of  his  art  the  personality  of  the  artist  shines  like  a  flame. 
Take,  for  example,  the  funeral  oration  of  Pericles.  There 
the  philosophy  of  Athenian  politics  is  reduced  to  its  quint- 
essence. The  wonderful  chapters  read  as  if  the  ancient 
material  had  been  informed  by  a  great  modern  mind — by 
the  mind  of  a  De  Tocqueville,  for  instance.  They  form  a 
valuable  jewel,  perhaps  the  most  valuable  jewel,  in  the 
treasury  of  Greek  prose.  In  unequivocal  tones  they  pro- 
claim individual  liberty,  the  unfettered  freedom  and  variety 
of  the  private  life  of  the  citizens,  exempt  from  the  tyranny 
of  the  greatest  number,  as  the  feature  most  characteristic 
of  Athenian  social  life.  The  historian  resumes  this  theme 
elsewhere.  He  puts  the  praises  of  this  feature,  the  most 
precious  fruit  of  Greek  civil  institutions,  in  the  mouth  of 
Nicias  in  his  last  speech  just  before  the  decisive  battle  in 
the  harbour  of  Syracuse.  And  we  may  legitimately  urge 
that  the  exhortation  comes  far  less  appropriately  from  the 
lips  of  that  type  of  narrow  orthodoxy  and  conventional 
morality  than  from  those  of  Pericles,  the  philosophers'  friend. 
We  may  fairly  say  that  in  this  instance  Thucydides  was  more 
concerned  to  preserve  the  probabilities  of  the  situation  than 
those  of  the  personages,  and  that  it  was  his  own  teeming 
sentiment  which  flowed  from  the  mouth  of  Nicias.  Lapses 
of  this  kind  may  occasionally  escape  our  notice  because 
Thucydides  is  generally  our  sole  authority  for  the  characters, 
which  we  cannot  accordingly  test  by  comparison  with  other 
witnesses.  But  even  taking  all  this  in  account,  such  instances 
are  certainly  but  rare  exceptions.  For  this  is  the  point  at 
which  the  incomparable  art  of  the  master  attained  the  height 
of  its  triumph.  Let  us  take  as  an  example  on  which  to 
found  this  judgment  the  one  figure  on  the  historical  stage  of 
Thucydides  with  whom  the  author  was  least  in  sympathy — 
Cleon  the  tanner.  And  yet  how  wonderfully  he  succeeds  in 
turning  that  orator  whom  he  dislikes  to  the  purposes  of  his 


THUCYDIDES   AND   CLEON.  517 

narrative  when  he  wants  to  show  the  spots  on  the  sun,  the 
shadows  on  the  virtues  of  the  Athenians  !  Thucydides  him- 
self was  obviously  convinced  that  his  clever  countrymen 
were  sometimes  too  clever,  that  the  refinement  of  their 
thought  was  not  unfrequently  prejudicial  to  its  wholesome- 
ness  and  soundness,  and  that  the  sons  of  Attica  were  often 
the  victims  of  their  own  versatility.  To  this  conviction  he 
could  give  no  more  effective  expression  than  by  the  mouth  of 
the  coarse  demagogue  who  was  not  particularly  distinguished 
by  the  higher  qualities  of  intellect.  It  was  Cleon,  there- 
fore, in  the  pages  of  Thucydides,  who  roundly  reproached 
his  fellow-countrymen,  saying.  You  are  the  slaves  of  para- 
dox, the  contemners  of  what  is  familiar.  You  follow  debates 
on  the  most  vital  questions  of  the  hour  with  the  same  atti- 
tude of  mind  as  though  you  were  attending  a  barren  tourna- 
ment of  wits.  You  look  at  facts  through  no  medium  save 
that  of  speech  ;  you  look  to  speech  to  disclose  the  future 
and  to  judge  the  past.  Appearance  and  reality,  actuality 
and  its  image,  have  changed  their  places  in  your  con- 
ception. 

The  name  of  Cleon  recalls  us  to  the  path  of  discussion 
from  which  we  fear  that  we  have  digressed  too  far.  We 
were  speaking  of  the  historian's  love  of  truth,  and  it  is 
precisely  in  respect  to  Cleon  that  his  impartiality  has  been 
most  strongly,  and,  we  readily  admit,  most  justifiably 
attacked.  We  cannot  doubt  that  the  demagogue's  noisy 
vehemence,  his  plebeian  conduct,  with  its  manifest  contempt 
for  the  refinements  of  life,  were  as  repugnant  to  Thucydides 
as  to  Aristotle  in  his  "Athenian  Constitution,"  and  pro- 
duced a  similar  blindness  to  Cleon's  solid  deserts.  But 
though  we  hold  this  opinion,  we  hold  it  solely  by  the  favour 
of  the  evidence  supplied  to  us  without  diminishment  or 
malice  by  Thucydides  himself.  The  occurrences  on  the 
island  of  Sphactcria  in  especial  reveal  a  striking  contradic- 
tion between  the  facts  related  by  the  historian  and  the 
verdict  passed  by  him  on  those  facts.  The  most  casual 
reader  could  not  miss  it.  Cleon  had  pledged  himself  to 
bring  the  four  hundred  Spartan  hoplites,  who  were  cut  off 
in  that  islet  from  every  chance   of   relief,  alive  or  dead 


5l8  GREEK   THINKERS. 

within  twenty  days  to  Athens.     He  commanded  an  over- 
whehning  force ;  he  associated  himself  with  Demosthenes, 
the  best  general  then  at  the  disposal  of  the  Athenians  ; 
and  the  success  of  his  undertaking  completely  answered 
his  expectation.     Nevertheless  the  historian,  who  cannot 
be  said  to  have  been  free  from  a  feeling  of  contempt  and 
even    of   personal    hatred,    spoke   of    Cleon's   promise   as 
a  "mad"  one.     Yet  it  is  precisely  this  instance  of  gross 
partiality  which  supplies  us  with  the  strongest  argument 
for  the  historian's  love  of  truth.      How  readily  might  he 
have  narrowed,  if  he  could  not  wholly  have  filled  in,  the 
gulf  that  yawned  between  his  account  of  the  facts  and  his 
judgment  on  them.      He  might  at  least  have  referred  to 
some  unforeseen  pieces  of  luck  which  contributed  to  the 
fulfilment  of  Cleon's  "  mad  "  undertaking.     But  there  is  not 
a  syllable  in  the  whole  of  his  report  which  contains  any 
hint  of  this  kind.     In  circumstances  where  his  judgment 
was  actually  poisoned  by  hatred,  his  narrative  was  wholly 
free   from    every   suspicion  of  deceit ;   nor  was   there  the 
remotest  attempt  to  shape  or  adapt  the  facts  to  suit  the 
bias  of  his  prejudice.     The  same  stringency  in  narrative 
marked  the  work  of  the  historian  in  instances  where  his 
judgment    was    coloured    by    favour.      When    Nicias,    for 
example,  atoned  with  his  life  for  the  failure  of  the  Sicilian 
Expedition,  which  he  had  conducted  with  such  conspicuous 
want  of  skill,  Thucydides  broke  out  into  a  lament  which 
did  not  merely  express  his  deep  sympathy  with  the  tragic 
fate  of  the  unfortunate  general,  but  bore  emphatic  witness 
to  the  historian's  high  estimate  of  his  character.     Never- 
theless, there  was  no  attempt  to  hush  up  or  to  whitewash 
any  of  the  numerous  and  hardly  conceivable  mistakes  which 
Nicias  committed.    Despite  his  love  for  the  man,  he  framed 
an  indictment  of  the  general  which  is  an  absolutely  crush- 
ing document.     For  to  Thucydides  too,  intellectual  giant 
though  he  was,  there  was  given  that  singleness,  that  "  sim- 
plicity "  of  heart,  which,  to  speak  in  his  own  words,  "  is  so 
large  an  element  in  a  noble  nature." 

But,  reluctant  though  we  may  be,  we  must  part  from 
Thucydides  for  the  present.     The  parting  will  not  be  of 


CONCLUSION.  519 

long  duration,  for  we  shall  have  to  use  his  evidence  for 
the  circumstances  of  moral  and  political  thought,  when  we 
seek  to  sketch  in  outline  at  least  the  conditions  under 
which  Socrates  began  his  wonderful  career.  There  we  shall 
meet  the  first  serious  attempt  at  a  systematic  foundation 
of  ethics.  The  writings  of  the  poets,  and  of  the  tragedians 
in  especial,  will  supply  us  for  the  most  part  with  the  evi- 
dence we  require,  but  we  shall  not  omit  to  refer  to  the 
testimony  of  the  rhetoricians  and  historians,  of  whom 
Thucydides,  as  the  deepest  thinker,  will  claim  our  chief 
consideration. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 


BOOK   I. 

The  motto  of  this  book  is  taken  from  Sir  H.  S.  Maine's  Rede  Lecture, 
May  22,  1875,  p.  38. 

Page  4.  Cp.  Bursian,  Geographic  von  GriecJicnhvid,  i.  5-8 ; 
Nissen,  Italische  Landeskunde,  i.  216  :  "  Nowhere  else  in  so  restricted 
an  area  is  so  striking  a  variety  of  bays,  promontories,  mountain 
ranges,  valleys,  plains,  highlands,  and  islands  of  all  kinds  to  be  found." 
Cp.,  too,  G.  Perrot,  Revue  des  deux  Moiides,  Feb.,  1892  :  "  Le  sol  et  Ic 
climat  de  la  Grece,"  especially  p.  544.  For  the  "  poverty  .  .  .  her 
familiar  friend,"  cp.  Herodotus,  vii.  102  ;  and  for  "  the  most  philo- 
sophical historian  .  .  .  ,"  cp.  Thuc,  i.  2. 

Page  6.  On  the  extension  of  the  geographical  horizon,  cp.  further 
H.  Berger,  Geschichte  der  ivissenscJiaftliclioi  Erdkunde,  i.  \6ff.  ;  Ed. 
Meyer,  Geschichte  JEgyptens^  367.  Settlers  from  Samos  in  the  Libyan 
desert  are  mentioned  by  Herodotus,  iii.  26. 

Page  7,  §  2.  Cp.,  for  the  points  of  view  taken  here,  B.  Erdmanns- 
dorfer,  Preussische  Jalirbiicher^  1869:  "Das  Zeitalter  der  Novelle  in 
Hellas." 

Page  8,  1.  27.  On  "kettles"  and  "tripods,"  cp.  Iliad,  ix.  2647!; 
Odyssey,  xiii.  13/".  and  217.  They  were  used  as  units  of  value  in  the 
laws  of  Crete  (Comparetti,  in  the  Museo  Italiano,  \\\. passim),  and  were 
finally  represented  as  an  accessory  design  on  Cretan  coins.  Tliough 
the  laws  may  possibly  refer  to  these  coins,  as  Svoronos  contends 
{Bulletin  de  Corr.  Hell.,  xii.  405),  yet  the  Homeric  passages  are  clear 
enough  in  themselves. 

Page  10,  1.  36.  "  Masters  of  choric  song  ;"  we  are  thinking  more 
especially  of  .Stesichorus  and  his  peculiar  treatment  of  the  myth  of 
Helen  ;  cp.  K.  O.  Miiller,  History  of  the  Literalurc  of  Ancient  Greece 
(London,  1840),  i.  262  and  267. 

Page  II,  §3.  On  Asiatic  and  Egyptian  influences  in  Mycenean 
art,    cp.  .Schuchhardt,    Schlientann\^    Excavations    (London,     1891), 


522  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

p.  303  ;  and  Reisch,  "  Die  Mykenische  Frage,"  in  the  Verhandlungeii 
dcr  42.  Versammlujig  dcutscher  Philologen,  p.  104.  While  the  Myce- 
nean  style  continued  to  develop  in  other  regions,  esp.  in  Attica  and  the 
islands,  its  development  was  interrupted  in  the  Peloponnesus,  probably 
in  consequence  of  the  Dorian  invasion.  The  influence  of  Egypt  on 
the  origins  of  Greek  sculpture  is  acknowledged,  amongst  others,  by 
Colligaon  {Histoire  de  la  Sculpture  Grccque,  i.  119)  and  by  Lechat 
{Btdl.  de  Corr.  Hellen.,  xiv.  148^). 

Page  1 1, 1.  25.  "  Adventurer :  "  Greek  mercenaries  have  commemo- 
rated their  names  by  inscribing  them  on  the  feet  of  a  colossal 
statue  at  Abu  Simbel,  in  Nubia  ;  Inscript.  GrceccB  atttiquissimce,  ed. 
Roehl  (Berlin,  1882),  pp.  127  ff.  Psammetich  I.  and  Psammetich  II. 
employed  such  mercenaries  by  thousands  (cp.  Ed.  Meyer,  op.  cit., 
360  ff.).  Antimenidas,  brother  of  the  poet  Alca^us,  lived  as  a  mer- 
cenary in  Babylon  (cp.  Strabo,  xiii.  617). 

Page  14,  §  4.  The  climate  of  Ionia  is  described  by  Herodotus,  i.  142. 
On  the  origin  of  the    lonians,  cp.   Ed.  Meyer,  Philologus,  New 
Series,  ii.  273  ;  also  von  Wilamowitz,  in  Hennes,  xxi.  108. 

On  their  versatility  and  its  causes,  cp.  the  excellent  remarks  of 
Grote,  History  0/  Greece,  iii.  4  (10  vols.  1888). 

On  the  blessings  of  a  mixture  of  races,  cp.  Sprenger,  "  Versuch 
einer  Kritik  von  Hamdanis  Beschreibung,"  in  vol.  xlv.  (separate  ed.) 
of  the  Zeitschrift  dcr  deutschot  inorgenldndischen  Gescllschaft,  p. 
367  :  "  We  may  say  that  the  Moslem  civilization,  which  we  commonly 
call  Arabian,  has  sprung  from  a  cross  between  the  Arab  blood  and 
spirit  and  those  of  Persia." 

Page  15,  §  5.  The  author  treated  the  same  questions  in  a  little 
pamphlet  [Trauvideutung  und  Zauberei,  Vienna,  1866),  and  still 
adheres  to  the  position  formulated  by  David  Hume  in  his  Natural 
History  of  Religion :  "  There  is  an  universal  tendency  among  mankind 
to  conceive  all  beings  like  themselves,  and  to  transfer  to  every  object 
those  cjualities  with  which  they  are  familiarly  acquainted,  and  of  which 
they  are  intimately  conscious "  {Essays  and  Treatises,  Edinburgh, 
1 817,  ii.  393).  The  science  of  religion  is  at  present  labouring  seriously 
under  the  want  of  a  fixed  terminology.  The  eminent  investigator  who, 
more  than  any  one  else,  gave  currency  to  the  important  term  "  ani- 
mism," and  whose  works  we  have  here  freely  used,  himself  owns  to 
employing  the  term  sometimes  in  a  looser  and  at  other  times  in  a 
stricter  sense  (Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  ii.  100).  It  is  still  worse 
with  the  term  "fetishism,"  which  is  variously  used  to  denote  the 
worship  of  (i)  the  great  natural  objects,  (2)  certain  classes  of  inani- 
mate objects,  (3)  insignificant  single  things,  such  as  an  oddly-shaped 
stone,  a  gaudy-coloured  shell,  etc.  Here  the  ambiguity  of  the  word 
has  seriously  hindered  the  progress  of  knowledge.  The  legitimate 
reaction  against  the  assumption  that  the  last-named  sort  of  fetishism 
was  the  original  form  of  all  religions  has,  we  think,  far  exceeded  its 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 


D^i 


aim,  and  has  led  many,  notably  Herbert  Spencer,  to  underestimate  the 
importance  of  fetishism  in  general.  The  just  perception  that  among  the 
objects  of  worship  called  fetishes  many  are  merely  secondary  religious 
creations,  and  that  they  are  often  revered  solely  as  the  lasting  or 
transient  dwelling-places  of  a  spirit  or  divinity,  has  been  generalized 
into  the  sentence,  "  that  fetishism  is  a  sequence  of  the  ghost  theory  " 
(H.  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  i.  345).  We  think  ourselves 
entitled  to  use  the  word  in  its  traditional  sense,  which,  indeed,  does 
not  agree  with  etymology  (cp.  Reville,  Prolegoinenes  de  Vhistoire  des 
religions,  3rd  ed.,  p.  130),  and  declare  that  we  are  not  at  all  convinced 
by  the  illustrious  English  thinker's  attempt  to  reduce  all  nature-worship 
to  the  worship  of  ghosts,  and  especially  of  ancestral  ghosts. 

The  great  plausibility  of  the  hypothesis  that  all  religion  was  origi- 
nally the  worship  of  ancestors  or  ghosts  is  due  to  the  following  circum- 
stance among  others.  There  is  a  continual  after-growth  of  such  gods, 
e.g.  in  India  (cp.  Grant  Allen,  The  Evolidioti  of  the  Idea  of  God,  1897, 
p.  32  ;  Lyall,  Asiatic  Sttcdies,  ed.  2,  1-54).  The  great  objects  of  nature 
have  long  ago  found  their  representatives,  as  have  also  the  chief  interests 
of  human  life,  in  old  traditional  divinities.  Now,  all  generally  acknow- 
ledged gods  have  a  certain  tendency  to  wear  out.  There  arises  a 
craving  for  ever  new  special  divinities,  with  whom  their  own  worshippers 
may  enter  in  a  closer  relation.  For  this  reason,  that  part  of  religious 
evolution  which  we  see  going  on  under  our  own  eyes  is  chiefly  soul- 
worship. 

The  statement  in  the  text  about  the  origins  of  religion  is  meant  to 
include  all  the  forces  that  contribute  to  its  formation,  though  they  may 
not  all  have  been  at  work  in  each  single  instance.  The  latest  scien- 
tific researches  have  revealed  many  unsuspected  differences  in  this 
respect.  The  long-sought  evidence  of  a  tribe  living  utterly  without 
any  religion  has  at  last  been  given  by  P.  and  F.  Sarrasin  in  their  work 
on  Die  Wcddas  atif  Ceylon,  Wiesbaden,  1892-3.  Karl  von  den 
Steincn,  in  his  Unter  den  Natiirvblkern  Ccntral-Brasilicns  (Berlin, 
1894),  introduces  us  to  communities  who  exhibit  faint  traces  of  sacri- 
fice to  the  dead  only  in  their  funeral  rites,  when  they  burn  the  goods 
of  the  deceased  and  trickle  blood  over  his  fleshless  bones.  But 
ancestor-worship,  or  spirit-worship  of  any  kind,  is  as  foreign  to  them 
as,  at  present  at  least,  the  cult  of  natural  objects.  This  last  form  of 
worship,  according  to  verbal  communications  received  from  Dr.  Oscar 
Baumann,  is  also  unknown— or,  at  least,  is  known  only  in  the  secondary 
phase  mentioned  above — to  the  Bantu  tribes  in  Africa.  Accordingly, 
when  we  speak  in  the  text  of  primitive  or  primeval  man,  we  wish  it  to 
be  understood  in  a  typical  sense,  with  the  restriction  just  mentioned. 

Page  18, 1.  37.  "  Souls  of  things"  or  objects  :  cp.  Tylor,  Primitive 
Culture,  i.  431.  The  importance  of  dream-piicnomena  for  the  belief 
in  the  existence  and  immortality  of  the  soul  has  been  set  in  the 
clearest  light  by  Tylor,  Spencer,  and  their  followers.      Oscar  Peschcl 


524  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Volkerktindc,  271  (Leipsic,  1875),  fully  acknowledges  the  justice  of  this 
deduction.  On  the  other  hand,  Siebeck,  Geschichte  der  Psychologic, 
1.  6,  opposes  it  with  arguments  that  strike  us  as  inadequate,  while  he 
speaks  {ibid.,  9)  of  the  circumstances  attending  the  extinction  of  life, 
and  interprets  the  same,  much  in  the  manner  of  our  own  text  (p.  20). 

Page  19,1.  16.  "The  Basutos  .  .  .  think  that  if  a  man  walks  on  the 
river-bank,  a  crocodile  may  seize  his  shadow  in  the  water  and  draw 
him  in  "  (Tyler,  op.  cii.,  i.  388).  We  have  not  scrupled  to  draw  largely 
on  Tylor's  statements. 

Page  22,  1.  26.  "  It  was  dm-ing  an  epidemic  of  small-pox  that  the 
Jakutes  first  beheld  a  camel,  and  they  declared  it  to  be  the  hostile 
deity  that  had  brought  the  small-pox  on  them  "  (Wuttke,  Geschichte 
des  Heidentujns,  i.  72). 

Here  should  be  mentioned  the  fear  of  the  uncanny  power  of  the 
dead,  which  equals,  and  perhaps  surpasses,  the  desire  for  their  help. 
Cp.,  though  his  statements  are  somewhat  exaggerated,  Ihering,  Vorge- 
schichtc  der  Ittdocuropaer,  60  (1894). 

Page  24, 1.  23.  "  An  old  theological  poet :"  Hesiod,  Theogoiiy,  \2^ff. 

Page  24,  1.  31.     "  By  Homer  :  "  Iliad,  xxi.  356^ 

Page  26, 1.  22.     Hymn  to  Aphrodite,  2S8_^. 

Page  26,  1.  32.     Iliad,  xx.  8,  9. 

Page  27.     Cp.  Welcker,  Griechische  Gbtterlehre,  i.  '^Zff. 

Page  28, 1.  5.  Cp.  especially  Schuchhardt,  Schliemami^s  Excava- 
tions, chiefly  the  concluding  chapter. 

Page  29,  1.  16.  In  the  Odyssey  the  ethical  point  of  view  comes  far 
more  strongly  to  the  fore.  Its  conclusion,  in  particular,  in  the  slaughter 
of  the  suitors,  appears  as  a  divine  chastisement  (cp.  especially  xxii.  413 
ff^.  On  top  of  it,  however,  there  ensue  traces  of  the  wildest  barbarism 
{ibid.,  A-7Sff-)-  After  the  surprisingly  fine  ethical  passage  (xix.  io<)ff.), 
it  is  not  a  little  disconcerting  to  find  theft  and  perjury  enumerated 
among  the  gifts  which  Hermes  bestowed  on  his  favourite  Autolycus 
{ibid.,  395).  In  the  Iliad,  Zeus  appears  as  the  avenger  of  wrong 
(xvi.  385,^)  ;  penalties  in  the  lower  world  for  perjury  (iii.  278). 

Page  20, 1.  8.     Cp.  Diels,  Sibyllinische  Blatter,  78,  n.  i. 

Page  30,  1.  26.  "Human  sacrifices  :"  cp.  Preller,  Griechische  My- 
thologie,  ed.  2,  i.  99,  loiff.,  542  ;  ii.  310. 

For  the  obsequies  of  Patroclus,  cp.  Iliad,  xxiii.  22  f.,  174-177. 
Here  ample  use  has  been  made  of  Erwin  Rohde's  pioneer-work. 
Psyche  :  Seelenkult  tmd  Unsterblichkeitsglanbe  der  Griechen,  especially 
I.  100^  ed.  2. 

Page  31,  §  7.  On  the  funeral  sacrifices  of  the  Scythians,  cp. 
Herodotus,  iv.  71,  72. 

Page  32, 11.  \off.    Cp.  Schuchhardt,  op.  cit.,  \A1  ff-,  i59, 205, 287,  295. 

Page  32, 11.  '21  ff.  Cp.  Rohde,  op.  cit.,\.  251,  n.  i  ;  also  the  author's 
Beitr'age  zur  Kritik  und  Erklarung griechischer  Schriftsteller,  ii.  35. 

Page  33, 1.  27.  These  views  on  the  influence  of  the  custom  of  burning 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  525 

were  expressed  by  Rohde,  op.  cit.,  i.  27.  But  we  find  ''  both  kinds  of 
burial  .  .  .  practised  side  by  side  in  Vedic  antiquity "  (Zimmer, 
AltindiscJies  Lebett,  401  ^.  ;  cp.  also  415),  without  detriment  to 
ancestor-worship. 

Pages  33,  34.  Cp.,  e.g.,  Iliad,  i.  396^^,  with  Hesiod,  Ilicogony, 
i\^ff. — the  one,  the  battle  of  the  Titans  ;  the  other,  virtually  a  palace- 
revolution  of  the  Olympians. 

Page  35,  1.  4.     On  the  sun  and  moon,  cp.  Tylor,  op.  cit.,  i.  260-262. 

On  the  solar  character  of  Samson,  cp.  Goldziher,  Dcr  Mythos  bci 
den  Hebr'dern,  128.  The  story  is  one  of  the  most  transparent  of 
all  nature-myths. 

For  what  follows,  cp.  A.  Kaegi,  Dcr  Rigveda,  ed.  2,  59/. 

Cp.  Tylor,   op.  cit.,  ii.   189  ;  also  /Eschylus,  Provietliciis,  369  ff. 

(KirchhofO. 

Page  36,  1.  4.  The  poetical  myth  of  the  Maoris  was  recorded  by 
Sir  George  Grey  about  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century  (cp.  Tylor, 
op.  cit.,  i.  290^.).  Another  version,  in  substantial  agreement  with  the 
first,  is  given  by  V>?^%\\2in,  Allcrlei  mcs  Volks-  iind  Mensclicnkunde,  i. 
314.  There,  after  one  of  the  children  of  Rangi  and  Papa  "  has  seen  the 
sunlight  shine  forth  from  under  the  armpit  of  Rangi,"  z'.^.,  when  the 
yearning  for  the  light  hitherto  unknown  to  them  has  been  once  awa- 
kened, they  all  cry  out  together,  "  We  will  kill  our  father,  because  he 
imprisoned  us  in  darkness."  But  they  finally  follow  the  advice  of  one 
who  proposes  not  to  kill  their  father,  but  to  hoist  him  aloft.  For  the 
parallel  Chinese  legend,  cp.  Tylor,  op.  cit.,  i.  294.  The  Phoenician 
legend  is  hinted  at  by  Euscbius,  Prap.  Evang.,  i.  10,  following  Philo 
of  Byblos  and  his  authority,  Sanchuniathon.  Note  particularly  the 
words,  iis  Koi  SiaffTTJyai  aWriAcev,  and  <5  5e  oupayhs  airox'^p^co.s  ahrris  /ere. 

Page  36,1.  19.     Hesiod,  Thcogony,  1542^ 

Page  37,1.  16.  "  Cherchez  la  femme  :"  these  words  are  put  by 
Alexandre  Dumas,/^r^,  in  the  mouth  of  an  experienced  chief  of  police 
in  Lcs  Mohicans  dc  Paris,  ii.  16. 

For  what  follows,  cp.  Hesiod,  Thcogony,  ^^off.  ;  Works  and  Days, 
()off.  On  the  myth  of  Pandora,  cp.,  too,  Buttmann,  Mythologits,  i. 
48^,  who  correctly  compared  it  with  the  legend  of  Eve,  but  wrongly 
identified  the  two. 

Page  38,  1.  31.  Homer  and  Hesiod  are  coupled  in  this  sense  by 
Herodotus,  ii.  53. 

Page  39,  1.  34.     Cp.  Kaegi,  op.  cit.,  117. 

In  Homer,  too  {Iliatf,  xiv.  259^),  Night  is  introduced  as  an  exalted 
goddess  whom  Zeus  himself  regards  with  reverential  awe.  In  the 
cosmogony  of  the  Maoris  the  "primeval  mother  Night"  heads  the 
pedigree  of  all  Beings.  After  her  come  Morning,  Day,  Empty  Space, 
etc.  (cp.  Bastian,  op.  cit.,  307). 

Page  40,1.  II.  "Eros:"  on  the  Love-god  in  Hesiod,  cp.  .Schoc- 
mann,  Opuscula  Acadeviica,  ii.  64-67. 


526  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  41,  11.  22,  23.  On  Apsuand  Tiamat,  cp.  Sayce,  Records  0/  the 
Past,  2nd  Series,  i.  \21ff.;  Lenormant-Babelon,  Histoire  ancienne  de 
P Orient,  ^6..  9,  v.  230^;  Halcvy,  Melanges  Graux,  58-60;  Jensen, 
Kosmologie  der  Babylonier,  300.  Fritz  Hommel  renders  Apsu  by 
"heaven's-ocean"  and  niiDiunu-tf  ainat  by  '"  chaos,"  i.e.  "  sea-bottom  " 
{Deutsche  RtDidschau,  July,  1891,  pp.  no,  in).  On  the  chaos  of  the 
Scandinavians,  cp.  James  Darmesteter,  Essais  Oricntaux,  177  ff. 
Analogous  to  chaos  is  the  aboriginal,  immense,  and  desert  sea  in  the 
cosmogony  of  the  Chippeway  Indians  (cp.  Fritz  Schultze,  Dcr  Feti- 
schisimis,  209).  There  is  an  old  Indian  parallel  in  the  Rig- Veda,  x. 
129,  1-4  (F.  Max  Miiller,  History  of  Ancient  Sanskrit  Literature,  1859, 
p.  564)  :— 

"  Nor  aught  nor  naught  existed  ;  yon  bright  sky 
Was  not,  nor  heaven's  broad  woof  outstretched  above. 
What  covered  all  ?     What  sheltered  ?     What  concealed  ? 
Was  it  the  water's  fathomless  abyss  ?  " 

[The  translator  is  indebted  for  the  use  of  this  version  to  the  courtesy 
of  Mrs.  Max  Midler.] 

Page  42,  1.  I.  If  Schoemann,  op.  cit.,  infers  from  the  idea  of 
gaping,  contained  in  the  Greek  "  chaos  "  (cp.  x«^'''^  and  xao-^a),  that 
this  chaos  was  conceived  as  limited,  he  attributes,  in  our  opinion,  far 
more  precise  ideas  to  those  primitive  thinkers  than  it  is  right  to  expect 
of  them.  (11.  I9if)  :  Cp.  Hesiod,  Theogony,  i2\ff.  and  iwff.  For  a 
correct  judgment  on  the  "  progeny  of  night " — apart  from  what  he  says 
about  the  "  compiler,"  who  may  well  have  been  Hesiod  himself — see 
O.  Gruppe,  Die  griechischcn  Kulte  und  My  then,  i.  571.  Much  more 
life-like  than  these  shadows  of  Hesiod  are  those  figures  in  Homer 
which,  like^Arrj  ("  Infatuation")  and  the  Airat  ("  Prayers  "),  may,  rather 
than  any  others  perhaps,  be  called  allegorical  (cp.  especially  Iliad, 
xix.  <^\  ff-,  and  ix.  502 _^). 

Book  I. — Chapter  I. 

Page  43.  Some  questions  of  more  general  import  may  here  be 
alluded  to.  We  consider  the  limits  between  philosophy  and  science 
as  fluctuating,  and  all  attempts  at  sharply  defining  the  scope  of  philo- 
sophy seem  to  us  equally  unsuccessful.  The  usual  definitions  are 
either  too  wide  or  too  narrow.  They  apply,  in  fact,  either  to  a  portion 
only  of  the  subject,  e.g.  Herbart's  Elaboratio7i  of  Conceptions,  or  they 
are  not  restricted  to  philosophy  alone.  For  if  one  speaks  of  "  the 
science  of  principles,"  or  of  "  the  investigation  of  the  essence  of  things 
and  the  universal  laws  of  all  processes,"  there  is  no  apparent  reason 
why  the  fundamental  truths  of  physics  and  chemistry  should  lie  out- 
side the  bounds  of  such  definitions.  There  surely  is  a  great  difference 
between  questions  of  principle  and  questions  of  detail  in  scientific 
matters.  Yet  the  claim  to  detach  the  former  from  the  complex  of  the 
special  sciences,  and  hand  them  over  to  an  independent  branch  of 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 


0^/ 


knowledge,  can  be  raised  and  approved  only  by  him  who  believes  that 
there  are  other  means  of  knowledge  available  for  solving  questions  of 
principle  than  for  solving  questions  of  detail.  Every  science  contains 
its  own  philosophy.  The  philosophy  of  language,  for  example,  forms 
but  the  topmost  storey  in  the  science  of  language,  and  is  not  a  kind  of 
separate  and  distinct  edifice.  Any  one  applying  the  terms  '•philo- 
sophy of  nature,"  "  philosophy  of  language  "  to  aught  save  the  highest 
generalizations  of  the  respective  sciences  would  nowadays  hardly  be 
taken  in  earnest  by  the  devotees  of  those  sciences.  Clearness  here  is 
only  obtained  by  viewing  the  subject  historically.  Philosophy  from 
the  first  was  "  universal  science,"  considered,  as  the  ancients  did  con- 
sider it,  as  a  power  guiding  and  determining  human  conduct.  In 
proportion  as  the  separate  branches  of  knowledge  increase  in  size, 
especially  when  they  are  able  to  occupy  the  entire  life  of  an  inquirer, 
they  crystallize  out  of  the  matrix,  so  to  speak,  and  become  special 
branches  of  knowledge.  It  might  seem  not  unlikely  that  the  fate  of 
the  old  "  universal  science  "  is  to  sufter,  in  the  course  of  time,  entire 
disruption  into  special  sciences.  Yet  this  would  be  asserting  too 
much,  for  two  things  will  for  ever  remain  :  (i)  the  elements  of  know- 
ledge common  to  all  studies,  i.e.  the  theory  of  cognition  and  the  theory 
of  methods,  in  the  widest  sense  ;  and  (2)  the  occasional,  though  rare, 
attempts  of  superior  minds  to  gather  the  highest  results  of  many  and, 
if  possible,  of  all  the  branches  of  knowledge — the  peaks  of  all  cognition, 
so  to  say — and  form  them  into  a  homogeneous  unity  whereon  to  found 
a  view  of  life  and  of  the  world.  The  nearest  approach  to  this  our  con- 
ception will  be  found  in  Wundt's  introduction  to  his  System  der  Philo- 
sopjiie  (Leipsic,  1889).  In  the  present  work  the  treatment  of  the  subject 
is  restricted  within  the  boundaries  prescribed  and  imposed  by  the 
limits  of  space,  as  well  as  of  the  knowledge  possessed  by  the  author, 
and  to  be  presumed  in  his  readers. 

We  shall  not  discuss  at  length  the  chronological  division  of  our 
subject.  The  different  schools  and  groups  of  schools  will  appear  in 
turn  upon  our  field  of  vision  without  requiring  special  introductions. 
The  most  appropriate  division  of  the  whole  of  ancient  civilization 
seems  to  be  that  proposed  by  Paul  Tannery,  Pour  VHistoire  de  la 
Science  Hellene  (Paris,  1887),  pp.  1-9.  He  would  divide  the  time 
between  600  B.C.  and  600  A. I),  into  four  periods  of  about  300  years 
each,  which  may  shortly  be  styled  the  Hellenic,  Hellenistic,  Gnuco- 
Roman,  and  Early  Byzantine  periods.  The  first  extends  from  the 
beginnings  of  prose-writing  to  the  age  of  Alexander  the  Great,  the 
second  reaches  to  that  of  Augustus,  the  third  to  Constant ine,  and 
the  fourth  to  Justinian,  or,  as  Tannery  prefers,  to  Heraclius.  The  chief 
recommendation  of  this  division  is  that  the  four  epochs  tally  with  real 
turning-points  in  the  history  of  civilization.  Its  drawback  is  that  the 
four  periods  are  of  such  very  unequal  value — at  least,  as  far  as  concerns 
the  historical  matter  here  treated.     The  contents  of  the  first  period 


528  NOTES   AND    ADDITIONS. 

alone  will,  according  to  the  plan  of  the  present  work,  occupy  about  two- 
thirds  of  our  space,  while  the  second  and  third  periods,  with  only  a  few 
glimpses  of  the  fourth,  must  be  compressed  within  the  remaining 
third.  Another  point  of  view,  not  unworthy  of  consideration,  was 
indicated  by  Laertius  Diogenes  (iii.  56,  modified  by  i.  18).  The 
gradual  unfolding  of  philosophy  is  compared  to  that  of  tragedy,  which 
employed  first  one,  then  two,  and  finally  three  actors.  Thus,  to 
physics,  which  originally  stood  alone,  dialectic  was  added  by  Zeno  of 
Elea,  and,  finally,  ethics  by  Socrates.  This  comparison,  which  for  its 
ingenuity  deserves  to  be  quoted,  is  neither  perfectly  apt  in  itself,  nor, 
for  obvious  reasons,  available  as  a  principle  of  demarcation.  The 
mighty  figure  of  Socrates  may,  indeed,  be  taken  to  mark  the  division 
between  two  main  epochs,  for  after  his  entrance  on  the  scene  philo- 
sophy moved  in  a  different,  though  not  entirely  new,  path.  The  pre- 
dominant place  of  nature-philosophy  was  henceforth  usurped  by 
ethics. 

Here,  also,  we  may  touch  on  the  question  of  the  aims  which  the 
study  of  the  history  of  Greek  philosophy  is  meant  to  serve.  They  are 
the  aims  of  all  historical  investigation  in  general,  modified  by  the 
peculiar  nature  of  this  particular  branch  of  knowledge.  Historical 
interest  flows  from  three  main  sources  :  a  simple  curiosity  about  the 
past,  especially  about  all  its  greatness  and  glory  ;  a  desire  to  utilize 
the  lessons  taught  by  this  knowledge  ;  and,  lastly,  the  purely  scientific 
and,  as  it  were,  disinterested  craving  after  knowledge,  which,  in 
matters  of  history,  is  directed  to  an  understanding  of  the  laws  of 
historical  development.  In  our  particular  case,  something  might  be 
said  on  the  first  and  third  of  these  motives  ;  but  on  the  second  there 
is  much  more  to  say.  Considering  the  immense  progress  which 
science  has  made  in  the  course  of  these  many  centuries,  we  may  well 
feel  doubts  as  to  the  usefulness  of  occupying  ourselves  with  the 
thoughts  and  doctrines  of  such  distant  ages.  To  allay  these  doubts,  it 
may  be  remarked  that  progress  has  been  by  no  means  uniform  in  the 
various  branches  of  knowledge,  and  that  it  has  been  much  slower  in 
moral  than  in  natural  science.  Even  in  natural  science  there  are 
many  fundamental  questions  awaiting  solution  ;  the  most  universal 
and  most  difficult  problems  have,  indeed,  often  changed  their  outward 
guise,  but  have  intrinsically  remained  the  same.  Still  more  important 
is  it  to  remind  the  reader  of  an  indirect  kind  of  use  or  application  of 
the  highest  significance  in  our  instance.  Almost  the  whole  of  our 
intellectual  culture  is  of  Greek  origin.  A  thorough  comprehension  of 
those  origins  is  indispensable  if  we  are  to  escape  from  the  overpower- 
ing despotism  of  their  influence.  It  is  not  only  highly  undesirable, 
but  in  this  case  simply  impossible,  to  ignore  the  past.  Even  those 
who  have  no  acquaintance  with  the  doctrines  and  writings  of  the  great 
masters  of  antiquity,  and  who  have  not  even  heard  the  names  of  Plato 
and  Aristotle,  are,  nevertheless,  under  the  spell  of  their  authority.     ]  t 


NOTES    AND   ADDITIONS.  529 

is  not  only  that  tlieir  influence  is  often  transmitted  to  us  by  their  fol- 
lowers, ancient  and  modern  :  our  whole  mode  of  thinking,  the  cate- 
gories in  which  our  ideas  move,  the  forms  of  language  in  which  we 
express  them,  and  which  therefore  govern  our  ideas, — all  these  are  to 
no  small  extent  the  products  of  art,  in  large  measure  the  art  of  the 
great  thinkers  of  antiquity.  If  we  are  not  to  mistake  a  result  of 
development  for  something  aboriginal,  and  a  product  of  art  for  a 
natural  product,  we  must  try  thoroughly  to  understand  this  process  of 
evolution.  Auguste  Comte  said,  and  with  perfect  justice,  that,  where 
practice  is  concerned,  "  on  ne  detruit  que  ce  qu'on  remplace  :  "  so, 
with  respect  to  theory,  we  may  say,  "  we  refute  only  what  we 
account  for." 

A  few  words  as  to  the  chief  sources  of  our  knowledge  may  likewise 
be  inserted  at  this  point.  But  very  little  of  the  works  of  the  great 
original  thinkers  of  antiquity  has  come  down  to  us.  Of  works  pre- 
served to  us  in  their  full  entirety,  Plato  alone  is  complete.  We  pos- 
sess about  half  of  the  works  of  Aristotle — his  didactic  writings,  that  is 
to  say,  but  not  his  popular  books,  which  were  written  exclusively,  or 
almost  exclusively,  in  the  form  of  dialogues.  Separated  from  these  by 
a  considerable  difference  of  bulk,  we  have  in  their  integrity  a  few  of 
the  smaller  pieces  of  Epicurus,  and,  finally,  the  Enneades  of  the  Neo- 
Platonist  Plotinus.  All  the  rest  are  either  fragments  or  the  work  of 
disciples,  continuators,  collectors,  commentators,  and  reporters.  The 
whole  pre-Socratic  philosophy  is  one  vast  field  of  ruins.  The  Socratics, 
of  whom  only  Plato  and  Xenophon  remain,  in  spite  of  the  many 
branches  of  this  school,  the  Middle  and  New  Academy,  the  Nco- 
Pythagoreans,  the  Old  and  Middle  Stoics,  and,  with  the  one  exception 
of  the  didactic  poem  of  Lucretius,  the  Epicureans, — all  these  have  left 
mere  ruined  heaps.  In  the  case  of  the  Epicureans  our  fragments  are 
very  numerous  and  ample,  thanks  to  the  protecting  ashes  of  Hercula- 
neum.  Of  all  the  schools,  the  New  Stoics  have  been  best  treated  by 
fate.  Seneca,  Epictetus,  and  Marcus  Aurelius  still  speak  to  us  as 
they  spoke  to  their  contemporaries.  The  doctrines  and  reasonings  of 
the  Sceptics  have  also,  to  a  large  extent,  been  preserved  to  us  in  the 
comprehensive  extract  made  by  Sextus  (about  200  A.D.),  and  the 
religious  philosophy  of  the  Alexandrian  Jews  in  the  original  works 
of  Philo.  Further  details  will  be  given  later  on.  For  the  present, 
enough  has  been  said  to  show  the  reader  the  importance  of  indirect,  as 
an  adjunct  to  direct,  tradition. 

Two  chief  branches  of  tradition  must  be  distinguished  :  the  doxo- 
graphic  and  the  biographic,  i.e.  writings  which  treat  respectively  of 
the  doctrines  and  of  the  lives  of  philosophers.  The  former  are  now, 
for  the  most  part,  collected  in  the  justly  esteemed  work  of  Hermann 
Diels  {Doxoi^raphi  Gru'ci,  Berlin,  icS/cj).  The  chief  source  and  root 
of  all  the  latter  doxographcrs — at  least,  so  far  as  concerns  physics  in 
the   ancient   and  comprehensive   sense — has  been   shown    to   be    an 

VOL.  I.  2  M 


530  NOTES  AND    ADDITIONS. 

historical  work  by  Theophrastus  (^vffiKol  5o|ai).  This  has  been  utilized 
by  numerous  authors,  sometimes  directly,  at  other  times  indirectly  ; 
amongst  others,  by  Cicero  and  by  A^tius  (between  loo  and  130  A.D.), 
whose  work  is  presented  to  us  in  several  versions.  One  such  version  is 
the  Placita  Philosophorum,  falsely  attributed  to  Plutarch  ;  another, 
certain  pieces  in  the  Florilegium  of  Johannes  Stobaeus  (about  500 
A.D.)  ;  and  a  third  version  is  the  work  of  Theodoret,  an  ecclesiastical 
historian  in  the  middle  of  the  fifth  century.  Similarly,  though  indi- 
rectly, based  on  the  doxography  of  Theophrastus,  is  another  and  very 
important  authority — the  Reftitation  of  All  Heresies,  by  the  presbyter 
Hippolytus,  in  the  beginning  of  the  third  century.  Its  first  book  was 
long  known  under  the  title  of  PhilosopJmmena,  and  was  ascribed  to 
Origen,  the  great  Father  of  the  Church.  But  in  1842  books  iv.-x.  were 
discovered,  and  the  authorship  of  Hippolytus  immediately  ascertained. 
The  other  traditions,  chiefly  of  a  biographical  character,  have  been 
mostly  collected  in  that  veritable  reservoir  of  material,  the  work  of 
Laertius  Diogenes  {not  Diogenes  of  Laerte).  He  was  himself  a  writer 
of  very  low  standing,  and  his  work  is  characterized  by  the  grossest 
thoughtlessness.  Yet  his  work,  composed,  or  rather  concocted,  pro- 
bably in  the  first  third  of  the  third  century  A.D.,  has  an  immense 
value  for  us.  His  principal  immediate  authority  was,  as  Diels  and 
Usener  discovered,  the  work  of  an  author  of  the  time  of  Nero,  Nicias 
of  Nicsea,  in  Bithynia.  This  writer  selected  his  materials  from  an 
extremely  copious  Hterature,  the  ultimate  sources  of  which  were  the 
biographies  of  philosophers,  first  put  in  the  form  of  "  Diadochies,"  i.e. 
"  successions,"  or  histories  of  the  different  schools,  by  Sotion  of  Alex- 
andria, about  the  end  of  the  third  century  i;.c.  Two  samples  of  this 
kind  of  historical  writing,  from  the  pen  of  Philodemus  the  Epicurean, 
have  been  recovered  in  recent  times.  The  compilation  of  Laertius 
Diogenes  contains  the  residue  of  the  whole  literature  so  richly 
developed  during  the  four  centuries  that  lie  between  him  and 
Sotion. 

In  each  separate  section  we  shall  enumerate  the  chief  authorities 
and  the  more  important  collections  of  fragments  that  refer  to  our 
subject,  but  modern  monographs  and  reports  will  be  quoted  only  to 
the  extent  mentioned  in  the  author's  Preface.  The  most  numerous 
literary  references  are  to  be  found  in  Ueberweg-Heinze,  Griindriss 
der  Gesckichte  der  Philosophie  des  Alterthuins ;  the  most  compre- 
hensive and  profound  discussions  of  all  the  problems  connected  with 
the  subject  in  Eduard  Zeller's  masterly  work,  Die  Philosophie  der 
Griechen;  and  a  compendious  resume  of  the  whole  of  our  great 
theme  in  Windelband,  Geschichte  der  Philosophie.  Of  older  but  not 
antiquated  works  on  the  subject,  mention  must  first  be  given  to 
Christian  Aug.  Brandis,  Haiidbuch  der  Geschichte  der  griechisch- 
romischen  Philosophie.  A  complete  collection  of  philosophical  frag- 
ments, or  even  a  tolerably  good  treatment  of  a  considerable  part  of 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  53 1 

them,  is  still  lacking.  The  want  is  partly  supplied  by  Ritter  and 
Preller,  Historia  Philosophice  Grceccc,  ed.  7,  by  Schultess  and 
Wellmann,  1888. 

Page  48, 1. 9.  "  Elements  of  geometry."  Our  knowledge  of  Egyptian 
geometry  has  lately  been  increased  by  the  Rhind  papyrus,  A.  Eisen- 
lohr's  Etn  mathematiscJies  Handbiich  der  alien  Agypter,  Leipsic,  1877. 
Cp.  also  Bretschneider,  Z?/^?  Geometric  unddie  Geometer  vor  Euklides, 
16-20. 

Cp.  Herodotus,  ii.  109 ;  Aristotle,  Metaphysica,  i,  i  ;  Plato, 
Phadrus,  274  C.  Herodotus,  loc.  a't.,  is  likewise  our  authority  for 
the  fact  that  the  Greeks  borrowed  the  elementary  astronomical  instru- 
ments from  the  Babylonians.  On  the  prediction  of  eclipses  by  the 
Babylonians,  cp.  Lenormant,  La  Di-cniiatio7i  die::  Ics  Chaldeens,  i.  46, 
and  J.  Mcnant,  La  Bibliotheqite  de  Nmivc,  93 _^ 

Page  45,  1.  17.  Iliad,  vii.  99,  aW'  h^^ls  fiev  -KavTis  vSccp  Kal  yaia 
yivoiaQe;  and  Iliad,  xiv.  211,  246.     Cp.  also  Gen.  i.  3,  ig. 

Page  46,  1.  24.  Justus  Liebig  wrote  to  Friedrich  Wohler,  April  15, 
1857,  "  It  may  be  foolish  even  to  speak  of  such  a  thing,  but  we  must 
never  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  the  metals  count  as  simple  substances, 
not  because  we  know  that  they  are  so,  but  because  we  do  not  know 
that  they  are  not"  {Briefwechsel,  ii.  43).  Very  similarly  Herbert 
Spencer  said,  in  a  paper  first  published  in  1865,  "What  chemists, 
for  convenience,  call  elementary  substances,  are  merely  substances 
which  they  have  thus  far  failed  to  decompose  ;  but  .  .  .  they  do  not 
dare  to  say  that  they  are  absolutely  undecomposable ''''  {Essays,  iii.  234). 
Cp.  L.  Barth  in  the  Almanack  der  Kaiser  lichen  Akademie  der  Wissen- 
schaften  (Vienna,  1880),  p.  224  :  "  In  fact,  there  is  hardly  any  chemist 
who  now  deems  certain,  absolutely  and  beyond  dispute,  the  existence 
of  the  seventy-odd  elements  as  such  ;  every  expert  .  .  .  will  have 
admitted  the  probability,  nay,  the  necessity,  of  their  reduction  to 
smaller  numbers."  Lothar  Meyer,  Die  modernen  Theorien  der  Clicmic, 
ed.  4,  p.  133,  says,  "  It  is  quite  conceivable  that  the  atoms  of  all 
or  of  many  elements  are  composed  for  the  most  part  of  smaller 
elementary  particles  of  a  single  original  material,  perhaps  hydro- 
gen. ..."  A  sketch  of  the  history  of  this  hypothesis,  which  was 
originated  by  Prout  in  181 5,  will  be  found  in  the  same  place. 

Pages  46,  47,  §  2.  Thalcs.  Chief  sources  :  Laert.  Diog.,  i.  ch.  i, 
and  Doxographi  Grwci,  passim.  Herodotus,  i.  170, calls  him  "a  Phcjcni- 
cian  by  origin,"  rh  avtKaQtv  ytvos  Uvros  ^oIvikos.  The  objections  lately 
brought  forward  against  this,  and  summed  up  by  E.  Meyer  {Philolo- 
gus,  new  series,  ii.  2(j?>ff.),  may  be  reduced  to  one,  viz.  that  Herodotus 
may  possibly  here  have  made  a  mistake.  But  as  we  are  totally  in 
ignorance  of  the  foundations  of  his  assumption,  and  as  it  is  a. priori 
most  unlikely  that  the  Greeks  would  choose  to  represent  their  great 
men  as  foreigners,  we  think  the  above-named  possibility  extremely 
remote  from  any  degree  of  certainty.     The  mother  had  a  Greek  name, 


532  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Cleobuline  ;  the  father's  name,  Examyes,  is  Carian  (cp.  Diels,  Archiv 
fiir  Geschichte  der  Philosophie,  ii.  169). 

For  what  follows  the  chief  references  are  :  Plato,  Thecetehis,  174  A  ; 
Herodotus,  i.  170  ;  (the  story  in  Herodotus,  i.  75,  very  doubtful).  Eude- 
mus,  the  fellow-disciple  of  Theophrastus,  in  his  highly  important  history 
of  geometry,  tells  of  Thales  in  Egypt  (cp.  L.  Spengel,  Eudemi  Rhodii 
qucv  siipersimt,  ii3_^).  Thales'  attempts  to  explain  the  rise  of  the 
Nile  (cp.  Laert.  Diog.,  i.  37  ;  Diodorus,  i.  38,  etc.).  On  Thales  as  a 
geometrician,  cp.  AUman,   Greek   Geometry  from   Thales  to  Euclid, 

Iff- 

Page  47,  11.  22,^  Lydia's  position  as  an  outpost  of  Assyrio-Baby- 
lonian  culture  is  vouched  for  by  the  pedigree  of  its  dynasty,  traced 
back  to  its  god  Bel  ;  many  legendary  features  in  its  history  ;  and, 
above  all,  the  Assyrian  protectorate  over  the  kings  Gyges  and  Ardys, 
established  by  cuneiform  inscriptions.  No  doubt  the  inquisitive 
lonians  who  visited  the  gorgeous  capital,  Sardis,  situated  in  their 
immediate  neighbourhood  (cp.  Herodotus,  i.  29),  there  first  became 
acquainted  with  the  elements  of  Babylonian  science  (cp.  Georges 
Radet,  La  Lydie  et  le  Mofide  Grec  au  temps  des  Mertnnades,  Paris, 
1893).  The  eclipse  of  the  sun  predicted  by  Thales  is  No.  1489  in  Th. 
von  Oppolzer's  "  Canon  of  Eclipses,"  Denkschr.  der  math.-naturiuiss. 
Klasse  derkais.  Akademie  d.  Wisscnsch,  (Vienna),  vol.  52.  On  Thales 
as  an  astronomer,  cp.  Sartorius,  Die  Entwicklung  der  Astro7iomie  bei 
den  Griechen,  Halle,  1883. 

On  the  shape  of  the  earth  :  cp.  Aristotle,  De  Ccelo,  ii.  13  ; 
DoxograpM  Grccci,  380.  21. 

Meteorological  forecasts,  like  that  mentioned  by  Aristotle, 
Politics,  i.  II,  are  frequent  "dans  le  grand  traite  astrologique," 
according  to  Lenormant,  op.  cit. 

Page  48,  1.  I.  Even  in  antiquity  the  writings  ascribed  to  Thales 
were  declared  spurious,  according  to  Laert.  Diog.,  i.  23. 

Page  48,  1.  2.  On  Thales'  doctrine  of  primary  matter,  cp.  Aristotle, 
Metaphysics,  i.  3.  Aristotle,  De  Anima,  i.  2,  accepts  the  traditional 
account  (e|  ^v  airofj.i'Tjfxouevova-i)  which  made  Thales  declare  the  magnet 
to  possess  a  soul.  If  this  report  is  well  founded,  it  may  be  said  that 
we  have  here  a  survival  of  primeval  fetishistic  views.  The  statement 
which  Aristotle  {ii>id.,  i.  5)  ascribes  to  Thales  ("  All  is  full  of  gods  ")  is 
ascribed  to  Pythagoras  by  another  authority,  in  the  words,  "  The  air 
is  full  of  souls,  and  those  are  called  heroes  and  demons  "  (Laert.  Diog., 
viii.  32).  This  again  is  a  specimen  of  the  simplest  primitive  concep- 
tion of  nature.  In  our  own  day  it  is  found  among  the  Finns,  the 
Khonds  of  India,  and  the  North  American  Algonquin  Indians  (cp. 
Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  ii.  169-172,  187/".  May  we  conjecture  that 
Thales  was  here  influenced  by  Babylonian,  i.q.  by  Accadian, 
religious  ideas  ?  In  them  were  included  numberless  spirits  whose 
affinity  to  those  recognized  by  the  Finns  has  been  traced  tentatively 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 


>J>3 


by  Lenormant,  La  Magie  chez   ies  Chaldceiis   (cp.    his    index,    s.v. 
"  Esprits  "). 

The  picture  which  Thales  formed  of  the  world — viz.  the  earth 
floating  hke  a  flat  piece  of  wood  on  the  water,  and  the  universe 
filled  with  his  primary  matter,  and  therefore  virtually  a  liquid  mass 
— corresponds  nearly  to  the  Egyptian  idea  of  the  primeval  water 
Nun,  and  its  division  into  two  separate  masses  (cp.  Tannery,  Pour 
Vhistoire  de  la  Science  Hellene^  7off-).  This  assumption  of  an  upper 
and  lower  ocean  is  also  old  Babylonian  :  cp.  Fritz  Hommel,  Der 
babylonische  Ursprung- der  agyplischen  Ktiltur  QAnmch.,  1892),  p.  8; 
cp.  also  Gen.  i.  7.  We  are  quite  in  the  dark  as  to  the  agreement 
between  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  Thales  and  that  of  the  half- 
Jewish  sect  of  the  Sampseans  (cp.  Hilgenfeld,  Jicdentuni  und  J iiden- 
cliristcntjim,  98)  ;  his  authority  is  Ephan.  haeres.,  xix.  i  ;  cp.  also 
Plutarch  on  the  Syrians,  Qucnst.  Cotiviv.,  viii.  8,  4  (891,  7 /.,  Diibner). 
The  recent  increasing  tendency  to  regard  Thales  merely  as  the 
middleman  in  the  importation  of  foreign  science  is  refuted  by  the  way 
in  which  our  best  authority,  Eudemus,  speaks  of  Thales'  geometrical 
achievements  and  their  relation  to  Egyptian  mathematics. 

Page  48,  §  3.  Anaximander  :  chief  sources,  Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  ch.  i 
(very  scanty),  and  Doxographi  Grccci.  One  little  sentence  is  preserved 
by  Simplicius,  In  Aristotel.  Phys..,  xxiv.  13,  Diels.  (This  diligent 
commentator  on  Aristotle's  works  lived  in  the  sixth  century  A.D.,  and 
has  preserved  for  us  more  fragments  of  the  pre-Socratic  philosophical 
literature  than  any  other  writer.)    Besides  this,  a  few  words  are  quoted 

by  Aristotle,  Phys.,  iii.  4. 

Page  49,  1.  30.      Egyptian  maps :   two  are  preserved,  one  of  a 

mining  district,  the  other  of  a  region  that  cannot  be  identified,  cf. 

Erman,  Life  ifi  Aticiefit  Egypt,  466  (translated  by   H.  M.  Tirard, 

London,  1894). 

Page  50,  1.   10.     The  borrowing  of  the  gnomon  from  Babylon  is 

attested,  as  we  have  already  mentioned,  by  Herodotus,  ii.  109.    Laert. 

Diog.  {loc.  cit)  knew  that  a  gnomon  had  been  set  up  at  Sparta  by 

Anaximander,  while  VX\\\y  {Hist.  Nat.,  ii.  76,  187)  names  Anaximenes. 

For  what  follows,  cf  Bretschneider,  op.  cit.,  62. 

Page  50,  1.  15.     "  Accounts  of  the  size  of  the  heavenly  bodies  : "  cf. 

Doxogr.,  68.    On  the  shape  of  the  earth,  cf.  Hippolytus,  i.  6  ;  Doxogr., 

559.  22.     On  its  floating  state,  cf.  Aristotle,  De  Ccclo,  ii.  13. 

Page  51,  1.  15.     "  It  has  been  said  :"  the  reference  is  to  J.  S.  Mill, 

Logic,  vol.  ii.,  bk.  v.  ch.  iii.  §  5. 

Page  52,  1.    I.      Anaximander    called    his  primary  matter  "the 

Infinite"  (rh  &irnpov),  and  declared  it  to  be  devoid  of  any  material 

differentiation  ;    hence    Thcophrastus   calls    it    an    undefined   matter 

(iopio-Tos  <i>v(Tis);  cf.  Doxogr.,  476.  18,  and  479.  13. 

Page  52,  1.  22.     "  Differentiations  "  of  primary  matter  :  according 

to  Theophrastus  {Doxogr.,  133-4). 


534  NOTES  AND    ADDITIONS. 

Page  52,  1.  2,3-  "  As  '  the  tree  by  its  bark  : '  "  Pseudo-Plutarch  in 
Eusebius,  P/'cep.  Evatig.,  i.  8  {Doxogr.^  579.  15).  For  the  facts 
adduced  in  the  following,  see  Doxogr.,  133-4,  342,  345,  381,  494-5. 

Page  53,  1.  8.  Retreat  of  the  sea:  cf.  Philo,  De  JLteriiitate 
Mundi,  c.  23-4  (according  to  Theophrastus). 

Page  53,  ad  fin.  Cf.  Teichmiiller,  Stndicn  ztir  Geschichte  der 
Begriffe,  pp.  14-16  ;  and  Neue  Studien  sur  Geschichte  der  Bcgriffe^  ii. 
276  sqq. ;  also  Doxogr.,  25. 

Page  54,  11.  9  fi^.  The  problem  of  organic  creation,  cf.  Doxogr. 
135,  430,  and  579  ;  also  Plutarch,  Qtioist.  Cofiviv.,  viii.  8.  4,  with  the 
excellent  emendation  by  Dohner,  yaXeol  instead  of  ■Ka.XawL  My 
colleague  Eduard  Suess  has  kindly  called  my  attention  to  the  two 
following  points  :  (r)  The  opinion  of  Anaximander — later  on  typically 
expressed  in  the  phrase  ojnne  viviim  ex  aqua — is  more  and  more 
considered  by  paUeontologists  as  ascertained  truth.  (Still,  the  theory 
of  the  "pelagic  origin"  of  all  organic  life  is  emphatically  contested  by 
Simroth,  Die  Entstehtmg  der  Laiidtiere,  Leipsic,  1892.  Yet  even 
this  authority  comes  near  to  Anaximander's  hypothesis  [sea-slime], 
p.  67  :  "  In  the  coastal  zone  the  three  great  promoters  of  life  meet 
together — water,  air,  and  the  solid,  with  its  profusion  of  nourishment.") 
(2)  Anaximander  here  may  very  likely  have  been  influenced  by  the 
observation  that  frogs  originally  live  in  water  as  tadpoles  (provided 
with  gills),  and  only  gradually  (by  the  formation  of  lungs)  become 
fitted  for  existence  on  land. 

Page  55,  1.  4.  On  the  Babylonian  fish-man,  Oannes,  cf.  George 
Smith,  The  Chaldea7i  Account  of  Genesis,  I'^fi. 

Page  55, 1.  28.  "  Gods  of  an  inferior  order : "  cf.  Cicero,  De  Nattira 
Deorn7n,  i.  10,  25  (where,  by-the-by,  what  he  says  about  Thales 
straightly  contradicts  Aristotle's  description  of  the  progressive  develop- 
ment of  philosophy,  in  Metaphys.,  i.  1-5,  and  is  therefore  wholly 
untrustworthy);  dXso  Doxogr..,  302,  579,  and  Simplic.  Fhys.,  1121.  5 
sqq.,  Diels. 

Perishable  gods  as  well  as  perishable  worlds  are  also  recognized  by 
Buddhism  {Bnddhistischer  Katechismns,  Brunswick,  1888,  pp.  27,  54). 

Page  56,  §  4.  Anaximenes  :  Chief  sources,'  Diog.,  ii.  ch.  2  ;  Theo- 
phrast.,  «/?^^  Simplic,  Phys.,2\,  26,  Diels  ;  Hippolytus,  i.  7  {Doxogr., 
476  and  560). 

Page  56,  11.  8,  9.  These  words  seem  to  be  Anaximenes'  own.  Cf. 
Philodemus,  On  Piety  (edited  by  the  author  of  the  present  work),  p.  65, 
completed  by  Diels,  Doxogr.,  532,  and  Hippolytus,  loc.  cit.  (also 
Doxogr.,  560.  14). 

Page  56,  1.  26.  Comparison  of  the  breath  of  life  with  the  air : 
Doxogr.,  278. 

Page  57,  init.  Nothing  is  more  curious  than  to  see  how,  as  late  as 
the  eighteenth  century,  metaphysical  arguments  were  produced  against 
what  Anaximenes  had  recognized  with  the  penetration  of  a  man  of 


NOTES   AND    ADDITIONS.  535 

genius.  In  the  year  1731  the  chemist  G.  E.  Stahl  wrote  in  his 
Expcrhnenta,  Obsemationes  et  Animadversioties,  §  47,  as  follows : 
"  Elastica  ilia  expansio  aeri  ita  per  essetitiam  propria  est,  ut  nunquam 
ad  vere  densam  aggregationem  nee  ipse  in  se  nee  in  ullis  mixtionibus 
coivisse  sentiri  possit."  Four  years  earlier  the  plant-physiologist 
Stephen  Hales,  in  his  Vegetable  Staticks,  had  taught,  again  precisely  as 
Anaximenes,  "quel'air  del'atmosph^re  .  .  .  entrc  dans  la  composition 
de  la  plus  grande  partie  des  corps  ;  qu'il  y  existe  sous  forme  solide, 
depouille  de  son  dlasticite  ;  .  .  .  que  cet  air  est,  en  quelque  fagon,  le 
lien  universel  de  la  nature.  .  .  .  Aussi  M.  Hales  finit-il  par  comparer 
I'air  h  un  veritable  Protde,"  etc.  {CEiivres  de  Lavoisier,  i.  459-460). 

Page  57,  1.  30.  "  Miserably  misunderstood  experiments : "  cf. 
Plutarch,  De  Primo  Frigido,  7,  3  (i  160.  12  Diibner). 

Page  58,  ad  fin.  Cf.  Hippolytus,  loc.  cit.,  and  Aristotle,  Meteor.,  \\: 
I  (354  A  28).  Remarkable  concordance  with  Egyptian  conceptions  : 
"  Ellc  [la  barque  solaire]  continuait  sa  course,  en  dehors  du  ciel  dans 
un  plan  parallfele  \  celui  de  la  terre,  et  courait  vers  Ic  Nord,  cachee 
aux  yeux  des  vivants  par  Ics  montagncs,  qui  servaient  d'appui  au 
firmament"  (Maspero,  Bibliothcque  Egyptologiqiie,  ii.  335).  For  the 
meteorological  attempts  of  Anaximenes,  cf.  Doxogr.,  136-7,  accord- 
ing to  Theophrastus. 

Page  59,  §  i\.,fin.     Cf.  Augustine,  De  Civitatc  Dei,  viii.  2. 

Page  59,  §5.  Heraclitus.  Chief  authorities  :  Lacrt.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  i, 
and  more  than  100  fragments,  now  collected,  with  all  the  literary 
material  connected  with  them,  in  Heracliti  Ephesii  Reliquice  recens. 
I.  Bywater,  Oxford,  1887.  The  so-called  Heraclitean  letters,  dating 
from  various  epochs  and  composed  by  various  writers,  now  also 
printed  in  Bywater's  book,  may  be  regarded  as  an  authority  of 
secondary  importance. 

Page  60,  1.  3.  Since  his  "floruit"  is  placed  at  the  time  of  the 
Ionian  revolt,  we  may  conjecture  that  his  attitude  to  that  event 
(perhaps  as  an  antagonist  of  Hecata:us,  whom  he  upbraids)  was  the 
occasion  of  this  reference.  The  man  who,  according  to  tradition, 
corresponded  with  King  Darius  (cf.  letters  1-3)  may  have  clearly 
recognized  the  hopelessness  of  such  an  uprising,  and,  moreover,  have 
deemed  the  aristocratic  government,  which  he  preferred,  better 
guaranteed  under  a  Persian  protectorate.  In  trutli  the  national 
liberation  in  479  did  lead  to  democracy,  the  existence  of  which  is 
presupposed  in  the  fragments  of  his  work. 

Page  60,  1.  22.  "  His  native  city:"  the  author  speaks  of  Ephesus 
as  an  eye  witness.     Cf.  Fragm.,  119,  126,  130,  127,  125,  16. 

Pages  60,  61.     Cf  Fragm.,  112,  18,  in,  113. 

Page  61,  1.  22.  "The  mob:"  Timon  the  Phliasian,  in  his  satiric 
poem  on  the  philosophers,  calls  him  oxAoAn^Sopos  {Sillograpkorum 
Grcccorum  Reliquio-,  ed.  C.  Wachsmuth,  p.  135,  Fragm.  29).  On 
what  follows,  cf.  Fragm.,  115,  51,  11,  12,  in. 


53^  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  62.     Cf.  Fragm.  114,  and  Pliny,  HisL  Nat.,  xxxiv.  5,  21, 

Page  63,  1.  6.     Theophrastus :  aptid 'Lz.&rt.  Diog.,  ix.  6. 

Page  63,  1.  8.     Aristotle  :  Rhetor.,  iii.  5. 

Page  63,  1.  10.  Commentators  :  among  them  Cleanthes,  the 
second  head  of  the  Stoa  (Laert.  Diog.,  vii.  174).  The  division  into 
three  sections  (1.  15)  may  perhaps  be  due  to  the  Alexandrine 
librarians. 

Page  64.     Cf.  Fragm.  20,  69,  21,  65,  79. 

Page  65,  ad  fin.  Cf.  Fragm.  32  and  Byvvater's  remarks  on  it. 
The  theory  of  the  conflagration  of  the  world  has  been  denounced  as  a 
Stoic  accretion  by  several  modern  writers,  ^.^.,  by  Schleiermacher,  who 
first  collected  and  edited  the  fragments  {Philos.  Wcrke,  ii.  1-146),  by 
Lassalle  {Die  Philosophie  Herakleitos  des  Dunkle7i,  1858),  and  lastly 
by  Burnet  {Early  Greek  Philosophy,  London,  1892).  Against  them, 
however,  cf.,  above  all,  the  decisive  Fragm.  26. 

Pages  66,  67.     Cf.  Fragm.  41  and  81. 

Page  67,  1.  16.  Aristotle,  Phys.,  viii.  3.  And  cf.  Lewes,  Problems 
of  Life  and  Mind,  ii.  299.  Likewise  Grove,  Oti  the  Correlation  of  Physi- 
cal Forces,  p.  22,  "  though  as  a  fact  we  cannot  predicate  of  any  portion 
of  matter  that  it  is  absolutely  at  rest."  Also  Herbert  Spencer,  The 
Stndy  of  Sociology,  ed.  4,  p.  1 18  :  "  but  now  when  we  know  that  all  stars 
are  in  motion,  and  that  there  are  no  such  things  as  everlasting  hills — 
now  when  we  find  all  things  throughout  the  Universe  to  be  in  a 
ceaseless  flux,^''  etc. 

Page  67,  1.  21.  Cf.  Schuster,  Hej-aklit  von  Ephesjcs,  in  the  Acta 
Societ.  Philol.  Lips.,  iii.  211. 

Page  68,  1.  25.     Cf.  Fragm.  52. 

Page  68,  1.  ■^'i.  Cf.  Fragm.  57.  In  what  follows  we  have  made 
ample  use  of  our  own  treatise,  Zu  Heraklits  Lehre  U7id  den  Uberresten 
seines  Werkes  (Wiener  Sitzungsber.,  1886,  <^^7  ff.). 

Page  71.     "  Coexistence  of  contraries : "  cf.  Fragm.  45,  47,  104, 

Page  71,  1.  13.  Cf.  Fragm.  43.  Numerous  illustrations  of  what 
follows  in  Gomperz,  op.  cit.,  1039-40. 

Page  72,  1.  I.     Cf.  Fragm.  44,  84. 

Page  72,  1.  17.  "A  lucky  discovery" — namely,  that  of  the  portions 
of  the  work  of  Hippolytus  which  were  lost  till  1842. 

Page  72,  1.  31.  Cf.,  besides  Fragm.  38,  the  highly  important 
Fragm.  47,  and  thereon  our  own  treatise,  p.  1041.  In  this  case  I 
cannot  agree  with  E.  Rohde  [Psyche,  ed.  2,  ii.  150). 

Page  73, 1. 14.  Callinus,  Fragm.  i  in  Bergk,  Poetce  Lyrici  Grceci,  ed. 
4,11.3.     (11.  16-18).   Cf.  Fragm.  loi,  102. 

Pages  73,  74.     "  Dicta : "  Fragm.  29,  91,  2. 

Page  75,  1.  10.  Schuster  {op.  cit.,  41,  n.  i)  compares  him  with 
Francis  Bacon.     For  what  follows,  cf.  Fragm.  73  and  74. 

Page  76,  1.  6.  Aristotle :  cf.  Metaphys.,  i.  6 :  ws  twv  aladtjTwp  ad 
peovToiv  Kat  l'Ki(TTrjfj.t]s  irepi  avrHiiv  o^k  ova"r]S. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  537 

Pages  76,  77.  Cf.  especially  Fragm.  24,  36  ;  and  Laert.  Diog.,  ix. 
8.  Reference  should  further  be  made  to  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  7  ;  to  Fragm. 
103,  19,  10  and  116,  7,  48,  118  ;  also  to  91,  100,  no. 

Page  77,  1.  32.  Hegel:  cf.  Haym,  Hegel  und  seine  Zeit,  357 j^  ; 
also  Hegel,  Gesamtnelte  Werke,  xiii.  328  and  334. 

Page  78,  1.  4.  Proudhon :  on  his  intellectual  affinity  with 
Heraclitus,  see  Gomperz,  op.  cit.,  1049-105 5. 

Page  79,  Ch.  I.,  ad  fin.  Just  a  word  by  way  of  justifying  our 
order  of  arrangement,  by  which  we  treat  Heraclitus  before  Pythagoras 
and  Xenophanes,  while  admitting  that  he  was  influenced  by  both. 
The  links  in  the  intellectual  development  of  those  centuries  may  be 
compared  to  a  row  of  parallel  threads,  running  lengthwise,  and 
connected  by  a  quantity  of  cross-threads.  Two  alternatives  are 
offered — either  to  pursue  the  principal  threads  (represented  in  our 
case  by  the  series  of  development :  Thales,  Anaximander,  Anaximenes, 
Heraclitus  and  Pythagoras,  Xenophanes,  Parmenides,  etc.),  and  to 
mention  the  side  influences  by  anticipation,  or  else  constantly  to 
jump  to  and  fro  between  one  principal  thread  and  others,  thus 
rendering  the  picture  intolerably  disturbing.  Xenophanes  and 
Parmenides  belong  very  closely  together.  Now,  Heraclitus  knew 
Xenophanes,  and  Parmenides,  again,  engaged  in  polemics  with 
Heraclitus.  So,  to  do  full  justice  to  all  these  relationships,  one  would 
have  to  put  Heraclitus  after  Xenophanes  and  before  Parmenides, 
thus  violently  tearing  asunder  what  is  intimately  bound  together. 

Book  I. — Chapter  II. 

Page  80,  1.  10.  "  Expiation  of  murder,  worship  of  souls,  sacrifices  to 
the  dead  :  "  cf.  Lobeck,  Aglaophamus,  i.  300  ff.  ;  and  Grote,  History 
of  Greece,  i.  23  (10  vols.  1888),  who,  however,  here  overrates  foreign 
influences.  Diels  has  shown  {Sibyllinische  Blatter,  42,  78,  and  else- 
where) that  the  primeval  in  custom  and  belief  was  far  more  pro- 
bably driven  into  the  background  by  the  civiUzation  mirrored  in 
epic  poetry.  Cf.,  likewise,  Rohde's  epoch-making  exposition  in 
Psyche,  e.g.,  i.  iS7  JF-  and  259^  (2nd  ed.).  The  growth  of  the 
retribution-theory  out  of  what  Tylor  called  the  continitance-theory  is 
admirably  described  in  Primitive  Culture,  ii.  77  ff.,  and  frequently 
elsewhere. 

Page  82,  1.  16.  "Reward  and  punishment."  The  simplest  form 
of  punishment  is  annihilation.  The  experts  are  at  variance  as  to 
whether,  in  the  views  of  the  Vedas,  the  wicked  are  considered 
worthy  of  continued  existence  at  all.  Roth,  the  late  eminent  Sanskritist, 
denied  it,  whereas  Zimmcr  {Altindisches  Leben,  416)  afiirms  the  thesis, 
and  supports  his  affirmation  by  arguments  which  can  scarcely  be  called 
decisive.  For  an  epoch  succeeding  the  Rig- Veda,  there  is,  anyhow, 
undoubted  proof  of  the  belief  in  a  place  of  punishment  and  in  infernal 
tortures  {Ibid.,  420-1). 


538  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  84,  §  2.  The  Orphic  poems  were  last  collected  by  Eugen 
Abel  {Orphics,  Leipsic  and  Prague,  1885)  ;  previously  by  Gottfried 
Hermann,  Leipsic,  1805. 

Page  84,  1.  24.  "The  most  recent  discoveries  :  "  cf.  Kaibel, 
Ltscripiioncs  Gracce  SicilicB  et  Italics,  Nos.  638-642.  His  omissions 
may  be  supplemented  by  Comparetti,  Notizie  degli scavi,  1880,  p.  155  ; 
?ccv^  Journal  of  Hellenic  Studies,  iii.  114^  The  tablets  belong  partly 
to  the  fourth  century  for  certain,  partly  perhaps  to  the  beginning  of 
the  third. 

Page  84,  1.  29.  "  Reference  in  Proclus  : "  Fragm.  224,  Abel  : 
hir-KOTf:  V  tv&panros  npoxlirp  (pdos  T^eXtoio,  which  is  almost  identical  with  No. 
642,  I  :  oAa'  diroTaiJ.  ^vxv  T^poXiirri  <pdos  deAioio.  These  and  several  other 
coincidences  have  also  been  pointed  out  by  O.  Kern,  Aus  dcr  Anomia 
(Berlin,  1890),  p.  87. 

Page  84,  1.  32.     Phanes  :  cf.  Diodorus,  i.  11,  3. 

Page  85,  1.  10.  "Theologians:"  ^.^.  Aristotle,  ^/6'A?/yij.'j-.,  xii.  6, 
where  they  are  opposed  to  the  Physicists. 

Page  85,  1.  35.  Pherecydes  of  Syros.  The  fragments  are  now 
collected  and  combined  with  allied  remains  in  O.  Kern,  De  Orphci 
Epinicnidis  Pherecydis  t]ieogo7iis  quccstioiies  criticce,  Berlin,  1888.  See 
also  Diels,  in  the  Archiv  fiir  Gcschichtc  dcr  Philos.,  ii.  91,  93-4,  656-7. 

Page  86.  I  am  building  here  on  Augustine,  Confessiones,  iii.  11, 
and  on  K.  von  Raumer^s  commentary  on  the  passage.  Others  too,  as 
soon  as  their  attention  is  directed  to  the  point,  will  probably  discern 
that  this  Manicha;an  doctrine  goes  back  to  Pherecydes. 

"  Ogenos  : "  Hommel,  Dcr  babylonische  Urspriing  der  iigyptischcn 
Kultiir,  p.  9,  derives  the  Greek  'CiKiwlis  from  the  Sumerian  Ugimia  = 
"  circle."  "  totality."  It  would  be  more  appropriate  to  derive  from  it 
the  enigmatic  and  quite  unique  Ogenos,  of  course  on  the  supposition 
(hereafter  to  be  proved)  that  Pherecydes  took  account  of  foreign 
traditions.  Besides  the  resemblance  of  the  names,  the  following 
circumstance  has  to  be  considered.  The  vanquished  in  the  battle  of 
the  gods  are  hurled  into  Ogenos.  Now,  the  chief  of  the  defeated, 
however,  is  the  serpent-god  Ophioneus,  evidently  a  Chthonic  or 
terrestrial  deity.  The  permanent  home  of  him  and  his  companions  is 
the  nether-world,  which,  according  to  the  Greek  view,  is  in  the  depths  of 
the  earth,  and,  according  to  the  Babylonian  (cf.  Hommel,  op.  cit.,  p.  8), 
under  the  ocean,  ivlay  not  the  Ophioneus  of  Pherecydes  be  identical 
with  the  Babylonian  serpent-like  goddess  of  the  Chaos  ?  Cf.  Jensen, 
Kosinologic  dcr  Babylonicr,  302.  Such  a  borrowing  from  the  Phoenician 
mythology,  so  closely  related  to  the  Babylonian,  was  assumed  by  Philon 
of  Byblus  at  least  {apud  Euseb.,  PrcEp.  Evang.,  i.  10,  p.  41  =  i.  93, 
Gaisf.).  It  is  no  longer  possible  to  follow  Zeller  {Philos.  d.  Or.,  edit.  5, 
i.  86),  in  rejecting  Philon's  evidence  as  that  of  a  "  forger  :"cf.  C. 
Wachsmuth,  Eiiileitung  in  das  Stud,  dcr  alt.  Geschichte,  406,  Leipsic, 
1895.     At  this  point  it  is  especially  noteworthy  that  Halevy  {Me'langcs 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  539 

Graiix,  SSff-)  has  proved  the  essential  identity  of  the  Phoenician  cos- 
mogony as  described  by  Philon  (or  in  his  source  Sanchuniathon)  with 
the  Babylonian  ;  cf.  also  Renan  in  Mem.  de  VAcadeviie  des  I  user., 
xxiii.  251. 

Page  89,  1.  25.  On  the  relation  of  Pherecydes  to  Anaximander,  cf. 
Diels,  Archiv  fur  Geschichte  der  Philos.,  i.  14-15. 

Pages  90,  91.  For  the  four  versions  of  the  Orphic  theogony,  cf. 
now  Kern,  op.  cit. 

Page  92,  11.  2,  3.  Kern,  op.  cit.,  especially,  following  the  precedent 
set  by  Lobeck  in  Aglaophamus,  has  established  the  much-disputed 
high  antiquity  of  the  rhapsodist  theogony,  or  at  least  of  its  essential 
contents,  on  grounds  that  seem  to  me  completely  pertinent.  Gruppe's 
would-be  proof  that  Plato  was  not  acquainted  with  the  rhapsodist  the- 
ogony (Jahrbuchcr  ficr  PhiloL,  Suppl.  xvii.  689  ff.)  I  regard  as  wholly 
unsuccessful,  despite  the  remarkable  fact  that  it  won  the  assent  of  Rohde : 
Psyche^  ii.  416  (ed.  2).  Viewed  in  full  light,  however,  the  difference 
between  Rohde  and  myself  shrinks  to  a  minimum.  For  while  Rohde 
grants  that  "  the  agreement  of  the  rhapsodies  with  old  Orphic  doctrine 
and  poetry  is  still "  demonstrable  at  many  points,  I  willingly  concede 
that  the  huge  bulk  of  that  work — twenty-four  books — and  the  clear  indi- 
cations of  an  interweaving  of  various  versions  of  the  legends  compel 
us  to  assume  that  the  rhapsodist  theogony  was  somewhat  considerably 
removed  from  the  starting-point  of  Orphic  literature.  We  lack,  at 
present  at  least,  the  requisite  means  for  converting  this  relative  deter- 
mination of  age  into  an  absolute  one.  This  view  is  also  held  by 
Diels,  who  thinks  it  "  probable  "  that  "  the  original  form  of  the  Orphic 
rhapsodist  theogony  belongs  to  the  sixth  century,"  and  adds  that  "  the 
Orphic  eschatological  mysticism  "  seems  "  a  good  deal  older  still  •' 
{Archiv,  ii.  91). 

Of  decisive  importance  for  fixing  the  age  of  those  Orphic  poems 
in  which  the  god  Phanes  appears,  is  the  occurrence  of  that  name 
on  the  above-mentioned  tablets  in  Lower  Italy.  How  improbable 
the  assertion  of  Zeller  now  sounds  {Philos.  d.  Gr.,  edit.  5,  i.  98)  : 
"  In  Aristotle  it  is  also  unmistakable  that  in  the  Orphic  theogony 
which  he  used  the  figure  of  Phanes  was  still  lacking."  Indeed,  the 
passages  adduced  by  Zeller  (pp.  88  n.  5, 90  n.  3)  to  support  his  assertion 
were  in  themselves  scarcely  convincing.  Because  Aristotle  {Mciaphys. 
xiv.  4)  speaks  of  '•  old  poets  "  who  assume  primeval  deities  "  such  as 
Night  and  Heaven,  or  Chaos  or  Oceanus,"  therefore  he  must  not  have 
known  any  account  wherein  Phanes  plays  a  part.  Yet  in  truth  I'hanes, 
even  according  to  the  rhapsodist  theogony,  is  not  properly  the  primeval 
Being,  as  Zeller  himself  acknowledges  (p.  95).  Rather,  he  is  preceded 
by  Chronos  (Time),  who  engenders  "  ^ther  and  the  dark  unfathom- 
able abyss,  or  Chaos,"  and  out  of  both  forms  the  world-egg,  from  which 
Phanes  issues.  I  cannot  regard  as  well  founded  the  conclusion  drawn 
by  Zeller  from  this  passage  of  the   Metaphysics,  viz.     '•  that    these 


540  NOTES    AND   ADDITIONS. 

words  .  .  .  presuppose  a  cosmology,  in  which  Night,  alone,  or  together 
with  other  similarly  primeval  principles,  occupied  the  first  place."  It  is 
otherwise  in  Metaphys.,  xii.  6,  where  "Theologians"  are  spoken  of 
"who  make  everything  issue  out  of  night"  (oi  e'/c  Nu/crby  -yivvSovTis). 
Nor  can  I  follow  Zeller  in  referring  both  these  passages  to  one  and  the 
same  Orphic  cosmogony,  when  the  mere  use  of  the  word  olov  (as)  in  the 
first  of  the  passages  seems  to  point  to  more  than  one.  The  plurals 
("the  old  poets"  and  "  the  theologians")  likewise  suggest  anythin.i; 
rather  than  a  homogeneous,  uniform  system.  And  the  least  acceptable 
point  in  Zeller's  treatment  of  this  subject  seems  to  me  his  assumption 
that  at  about  the  third  century  one  had  begun  to  invest  Stoic  thought 
with  a  completely  new  mythical  garb.  Risky  as  all  such  general  state- 
ments are,  yet  the  fact  that  the  power  of  myth-making  was  practically 
extinct  in  the  Hellenistic  age  may  be  boldly  stated,  and  much  more 
confidently  at  least  than  that  pantheistic  myths  in  the  sixth  or  seventh 
century  could  not  have  been  created,  or  produced  by  the  transforma- 
tion partly  of  older  local,  partly  of  non-Greek  traditions. 

Page  92,  11.  30,  31.     The  verses  will  be  found  in  Abel,  Orphica,  167. 

Page  94, 1.  I.  The  world-egg  :  in  Persia  and  India,  cf.  Darmesteter, 
Essais  Orientanx,  169,  173,  176 ;  in  Phoenicia  and  Babylon,  cf. 
Halevy,  Melanges  Graiix,  61  ;  also  Welcker,  Gricchischc  Gottcrlehrc, 
i.  195  ;  finally,  the  remarkable  statement  in  Alberuni's  India  (trans- 
lated by  Sachau,  i.  222,  223)  :  "  If  this  our  book  were  not  restricted  to 
the  ideas  of  one  single  nation,  we  should  produce  from  the  belief  of 
the  nations  who  lived  in  ancient  times  in  and  round  Babel  ideas  similar 
to  the  egg  of  Brahman." 

Page  94,  1.  5.  In  Egypt  :  the  quotation  is  from  Brugsch,  Religioji 
unci  Mythologie  der  alien  Agyptcr,  loi.  The  version  (1.  16)  relating 
to  the  god  Ptah  will  be  found  in  Erman,  Life  in  Ancient  Egypt,  trans,  by 
Tirard  (London,  1894).  Cf.  also  Dieterich,  "  Papyrus  magica,"  in 
Jahrb.fur  Philol.,  Snppl.  xvi.  773.  Lepage-Renouf  is  hitherto  unsup- 
ported in  his  judgment  which  denies  the  world- egg  to  Egyptian  my- 
thology I  (Prf^^^^^zV;^^  of  the  Soc.  of  Bibl.  ArchcEology,xw.  64  and  289  n. 
2).  We  must  not  omit  to  mention  that  we  find  this  myth  of  the  world- 
egg  in  places  where  borrowing  is  most  unlikely  or  utterly  impossible, 
eg.  among  the  Lettes,  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  among  the  Peruvians 
(cf.  Lukas,  Die  Grundbegriffe  in  den  Kosniogonien  der  a/ten  Volkcr, 
261  ff.),  and  among  the  Finns  (cf.  Comparetti,  77i.e  Traditional  Poetry 
iT/the  Finns,  trans,  by  J.  M.  Anderton,  London,  1898,  pp.  159-60).  Still, 
no  impartial  consideration  could  well  miss  the  more  exact  agreement 
between  the  forms  this  myth  has  assumed  among  some  of  the  nations 
mentioned  in  the  text. 

Page  94,  1.  26.  "  Epicene  godheads  "  in  Babylon  :  cf.  Lenormant- 
Babelon,  Hist.  anc.  de  VOrient,  edit.  9,  v,  250. 

Page  94,  1.  28.  Testimony  of  Eudemus  :  in  Endcmi  Fragfnenta 
coll.  Spengel,  172,  cf.  also  171  ;  where  the  doctrine  of  the  Magi  is  spoken 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  54 1 

of,  i.e.  the  religion  of  Zoroaster  and  the  place  occupied  in  it  by  the 
Time-principle. 

Page  94,  1.  31.  Zrvan  Akarana  :  cf.  Avesta  i.,  trans,  by  James 
Darmesteter  {Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  iv.),  Introduction,  p.  82  ;  and 
Fargard,  xix.  9,  p.  206. 

Page  95,  1.  28.  "  Fairy  lore  :  "  On  the  wanderings  of  fairy  tales,  cf. 
SchevQYj/acod  Grlmtn,  edit.  2,  p.  iiiff.  One  vehicle  for  their  disper- 
sion was  Islam,  which  in  the  tenth  century  was  propagated  in  India, 
and  thus  permitted  the  collections  of  tales  to  spread  to  Persia  and 
Arabia,  where  they  found  a  second  home.  Thus  they  wandered  on 
the  one  hand  "  through  the  lands  of  Islam  to  Byzantium,  Italy,  and 
Spain,"  and  on  the  other  hand,  by  virtue  of  community  in  the  Bud- 
dhistic faith,  to  China,  Thibet,  "  and  to  the  Mongols,  and,  through  their 
200  years  of  European  domination,  to  Europe  once  again  from  that 
side." 

Page  96,  1.  29.  On  the  cuneiform  archives  of  Tell-el-Amarna  and 
Lachish,  cf.  Winkler,  in  the  Mitthciluiigen  aus  den  oricnialischen 
Samiiiliingcn  der  kgl.  Aluseen  22c  Berlin,  i.-iii.  ;  Bezold  and  Budge,  The 
Tcll-cl-Amarna  Tablets  in  the  Brit.  Miis.,  1892  ;  and  finally,  Flinders 
Petrie,  Tell-cl-Hesy  (Lachish),  1890.  Parts  of  them  have  been  trans- 
lated by  Saycc,  Records  of  the  Past,  New  Series,  vol.  iii.  No.  4,  1890. 

Page  97,  II.  34,  35.  The  two  verses  of  ^Cschylus  here  quoted  are 
from  his  drama,  "  The  Daughters  of  the  Sun,"  in  Nauck,  Fragmenta 
Tragiconan  Crcecoruni,  edit.  2,  Fragm.  70,  p.  24. 

Book  I.— Chapter  III. 

Page  99,  init.  Pythagoras  :  Apollodorus  {Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  i)  fixes 
his  "floruit"  in  the  year  532-1.  Uiels,  Chronologisclie  Uniersuch- 
ungen  iiber  Apollodors  Cliroiiika  (Rheinisches  Museum,  New  Series, 
31,  pp.  25,  26),  should  be  consulted. 

The  few  contemporary  notices  of  him  are  mentioned  in  the  text. 
The  next  earliest  more  detailed  information  about  his  life,  mixed  up 
with  many  inventions,  is  furnished  by  Porphyry  (in  his  Life  of  Pytha- 
goras) and  by  lamblichus  in  his  similar  treatise  (both  printed  in  the 
appendix  to  Laert.  Diog.  in  the  Firniin-Didot  edition,  Paris,  1S50)  ;  cf. 
A.  Nauck,  Porphyrii  Opusciila  Selccta,  ed.  2,  Leipsic,  1886,  and 
Iambi ichi  Dc  Vita  Pythaj^orica  Liber,  ed.  Nauck,  St.  I'etersburg, 
1884.  Cf.  Zeller,  Pythagoras  iind  die  Pytliagorassage,  in  Vortrdoe 
nnd  Abha?tdliu!geu  iieschiehtlichcn  Inhalts  (Leipsic,  1865),  p.  47. 

Page  99,  1.  22.  "  No  line  from  his  own  pen."  This  is  a  correct 
inference  from  Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  6.  The  "  Golden  Sentences  "  ascribed 
to  him  are  as  a  whole  a  fabrication  probably  belonging  to  the  begin- 
ning of  the  fourth  century  A.D.  Still,  they  contain  some  isolated  old 
and  genuine  portions,  verses  that  belong  to  the  age  of  Pythagoras, 
and  jjerhaps  are  actually  his  own.    Cf.  Nauck's  masterly  investigation. 


542  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

in   the    publications    of    the    Imp.    Russian    Academy  ,  of    Sciences 
{^M^langes  Gr^co-Roniaiiis,  iii.  54.6  j^). 

Page  100,  1.  I.  "  The  pupil  of  Pherecydes."  The  doubt  as  to  the 
trustworthiness  of  this  tradition  might  have  been  even  more  sharply 
expressed  than  in  the  text.  Rohde,  Psyche,  ii.  167,  n.  i.  (ed.  2),  is 
obviously  correct  in  remarking  that  it  was  the  (as  we  add,  supposed) 
agreement  between  their  doctrines  that ' '  caused  later  writers  to  make  the 
old  theologian  the  master  of  Pythagoras."  The  report  that  Pherecydes 
had  actually  taught  metempsychosis  rests  solely  on  the  authority  of 
the  Byzantine  lexicographer  Suidas  (s.v.  ^ipeKv5iis).  And  even  he  makes 
the  reservation,  nvh  la-Topovcn,  "  some  people  relate,"  just  as  he  grounds 
the  status  pupillaris  of  Pythagoras  on  a  mere  Koyos,  or  "it  is  said." 
The  instability  of  the  foundation  of  all  this  may  be  judged  from  the 
very  statement  |to  which  Rohde — incorrectly,  as  we  believe — attaches 
some  weight  :  "  In  his  {i.e.  Pherecydes')  mystic  writings  one  must 
have  found  such  doctrines  hinted  at  (cp.  Porphyry,  Antr.  Nymph. 
31)."  If  Porphyry  alleges  in  this  passage  that  Pherecydes,  by  his 
doctrine  of  the  various  caverns,  doors,  and  so  forth,  was  hinting  darkly 
{alviTTOjjLfyos)  at  the  fate  (yevea-eis  and  a-Koyevfcreis)  of  the  souls,  I  for  my 
part  believe  that  one  conclusion  only  can  be  drawn  with  certainty 
from  the  words,  viz.  that  no  definite  reference  to  that  doctrine, 
obtained  otherwise  than  by  neo-Platonic  arts  of  interpretation,  was 
discovered  in  the  treatise  of  Pherecydes.  Nothing,  in  fact,  remains  of 
Preller's  proofs  (Pheiu.  Mas.,  New  series,  iv.  3S8),  to  which  Rohde 
appeals,  save  the  vague  statement  of  Cicero  {Tnsc.,  i.  16.  38),  that 
Pherecydes  taught  the  immortality  of  the  soul — a  statement  which 
leaves  us  in  the  dark  on  the  essential  point  as  to  wherein  Pherecydes 
modified  the  primeval  doctrine  of  Greek  religion  about  the  survival  of 
souls. 

Page  100,  1.  12.  Good  grounds  for  the  credibihty  of  the  news  that 
Pythagoras  visited  Egypt  are  given  by  Chaignet,  Pythagorc  et  la 
Phil.  Pythag:.,  i.  40,  41,  and  48. 

Page  100,  1.  16.  On  the  practices  borrowed  from  the  Egyptian 
priesthood,  cp.  Herodotus,  ii.  81  (and  ii.  37,  where  the  Pythagoreans 
are  not  mentioned  by  name,  but  where  the  agreement  is  a  striking 
one  in  view  of  the  universal  knowledge  in  antiquity  of  the  prohibition 
against  beans.  An  apt  explanation  of  the  denial  of  this  by  Aristoxenus 
is  given  in  Rohde,  op.  cit.,  ii.  164,  n.  i). 

Page  102,  1.  27.  The  quotation  is  from  Roth,  Gcschichte  iniscrer 
abendldndische7i  Philosophie,  ii.  785,  786,  whose  view  and  exposition 
of  this  fundamental  experiment  in  acoustics  I  adopt  likewise  in  what 
follows. 

Page  104,  1.  26.     Aristotle:  see  Mctaph.,  i.  5  ;  iii.  5  ;  vii.  2. 

Page  105,  1.  II.  "Analogy  between  numbers  and  spatial  rela- 
tions." Precisely  similar  ideas  on  this  point  will  be  found  in  Zeller, 
Philos.  dcr  Griechcn,  ed.  5,  i.  404. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  543 

Pages  105,  106.  For  the  widely  scattered  evidence  in  the  present 
context,  see  Brandis,  Handbuch  dcr  Gcschichtc  dcr griechiscJi-romischcn 
PhilosopJiic,  i.  469^ 

Page  107,  1.  II.  Cf.  Aristotle,  De  Casio,  i.  i.  For  what  just 
precedes  about  the  sacredness  of  the  number  three,  cf.  Usener,  Dcr 
heiligc  Thcodosios,  135  ;  and  "  Ein  altes  Lehrgebaude  der  Philologie," 
M'fuichiter  akad.  Sitzungsbcr.,  1892,  p.  591^ 

Page  107,  1.  14.  Giordano  Bruno:  cf.  his  book,  Dc  Monadc 
Numcro  ct  Figura.  Auguste  Comte :  cf.  his  Politique  Positive,  vol.  i. 
Preface  and  "  Synthcse  subjective." 

Page  107,  1,  16.  Laurence  Oken  :  Naturphilosophie,  p.  12,  and  in 
what  follows,  cf.  Aristotle,  loc.  cit. 

Page  107,  1.  35.  "Table  of  contraries."  The  chief  passage  is 
Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  5.  That  it  is  of  Assyrio-Babylonian  origin  I 
gather  from  a  remark  in  Lenormant-Babelon,  Hist.  anc.  de  POrieut, 
ed.  9,  V.  181. 

Page  108,  1.  36.  Services  of  Pythagoras  to  geometry  and 
arithmetic  :  The  chief  testimony  is  that  of  Eudemus,  114  (Spengel)  ; 
cf.  Cantor,  Vorlesungen  Tiber  die  Gcsch.  dcr  Matlieinatiic,  i.  124^ 

Page  no,  1.  15.  The  references  in  Aristotle  are  to  Mctapliys.,  i.  5 
and  De  Cado,  ii.  13  respectively. 

Page  1 10,  ad  fill.  On  the  equilibrium  and  central  position  of  the 
earth,  and  what  follows,  cf.  chiefly  Schiaparelli,  /  Precursori  di 
Copeniico  iielP  Antichita,  in  Menioric  del  R.  Istituio  Loinbardo,  xii. 
383.  This  conclusive  exposition  is  borrowed  by  H.  Berger,  Wisscn- 
scha/tl.  Erdkiinde  dcr  Gricclien,  ii.  4  ff.,  who  also  offers  much 
excellent  matter  of  his  own.  Cf.  too  Rudolf  Wolf,  Gcsch.  der 
Astro)wiiiie,  5,  26,  28.  The  question  whether  the  globular  shape  of 
the  earth  was  discovered  in  Greece  or  abroad  is  left  open  by  Berger. 
He  might  well  have  decided  in  favour  of  Greece,  for  he  had  only  to 
refer  to  Diodorus,  ii.  31,  whose  statement  is  fully  confirmed  by  the 
examination  of  the  original  authorities,  in  order  to  convince  himself 
that  such  insight  was  denied  to  the  Babylonians.  But  when  H. 
Martin,  in  an  essay  quoted  by  Berger  (p.  7,  n.  3),  "  credits  the 
Egyptians  with  a  knowledge  of  the  earth-ball,"  he  is  contradicted  by 
the  conception  of  the  earth's  shape  which  Maspero,  a  leading  authority 
on  these  subjects,  brings  forward  and  expounds  in  his  Hist.  aitc.  des 
Pcuples  de  I' Orient  classi/jnc,  pp.  16,  17. 


PjOOK.    I.— CHAl'TER     IV. 

Page  112,  1.  I.  Voltaire:  (liimrcs  co/iifdctes,  cd.  l)audouin,  vol. 
58,  p.  249. 

I'agc  112,  1.  3.  Sir  George  Cornewall  Lewis:  An  Historical 
Survey  of  tlie  /Istronoiiiy  of  tlic  Ancients,  p.  189.  The  material  here 
employed  is  for  the  main  part  collected  in  the  epoch-making  treatise 


544  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

of  Schiaparelli  mentioned  above.  We  are  considerably  indebted,  too, 
to  the  rich  contents  of  this  and  of  a  second  masterly  work  by  the  same 
author,  Lc  sfcrc  omoceiitriche,  etc.,  Milan,  1876.  The  first  to  shed  light 
on  this  confusion  was  Boeckh,  in  his  Philolaos  dcs  Pythagoreers 
Lchren.  In  another  connection  we  shall  have  to  deal  with  the 
personality  of  this  Pythagorean,  and  with  the  other  doctrines  that 
may  with  greater  certainty  be  attributed  to  him. 

Page   112,  1.  24.     "Simple,  steady,  and   regular:"  cf.   Geminus, 
in  Simplicius,  Phys.,  292,  26,  27  D. 

Page  114,  1.  23.  We  are  of  opinion  that  Schiaparelli  errs  in 
disputing  the  movement  of  the  firmament  of  fixed  stars  in  the 
Philolaic  system,  /  Preacrsorl  di  Copcrnico,  etc.  (separate  edition), 
p.  7.  For  then  we  should  have  to  credit  our  authorities,  above  all 
Aristotle,  who  speaks  of  ten  heavenly  bodies  in  motion  {Metaphys.,  i. 
5),  with  a  hardly  conceivable  mistake.  It  is,  further,  contrary  to  the 
strongly  marked  sense  of  symmetry  shown  by  the  Pythagoreans,  that 
they  should  ascribe  immobility  solely  to  the  firmament  of  the  fixed 
stars.  It  is  true  they  could  no  longer  believe  in  the  daily  movement 
of  this  firmament,  since  it  had  been  superseded  by  the  movement  of 
the  earth.  "What  then  remains,"  asks  Bockh,  op.  cit.,  118,  "but  to 
assume  that  the  movement  of  the  firmament  of  the  fixed  stars  is  the 
precession  of  the  equinoxes  1 "  Later,  Bockh  renounced  this  opinion 
{Manetho  7ind  die  Hundssteniperiode^  54) ;  still  later  he  returned  to  it, 
though  with  hesitation  {Das  Kosmische  System  des  Platoii,  95).  In 
this  we  unconditionally  agree  with  him,  chiefly  on  account  of  the 
following  consideration.  The  precession  of  the  equinoxes  is  a 
phenomenon  which,  as  Martin  justly  remarks  {Etudes  sur  le  Tiinee  de 
Platon,  ii.  38),  "  requires  only  long  and  steady  observations  without 
any  mathematical  theory,  in  order  to  be  recognized."  It  is  in  itself 
hardly  credible  that  a  deviation  in  the  position  of  the  luminaries, 
which  in  the  course  of  a  single  year  amounts  to  more  than  fifty 
seconds  of  an  arc,  could  remain  unnoticed  for  long.  It  becomes  quite 
incredible  on  the  following  consideration,  to  which  an  expert  authority, 
Dr.  Robert  Frobe,  of  the  Vienna  Observatory,  has  directed  my 
attention.  The  data  derived  from  Philolaus  or  other  early  Pytha- 
goreans for  the  angular  velocities  of  the  planetary  movements  are 
approximately  correct.  Only  prolonged  observations  of  the  stars  could 
have  made  them  so,  since  there  was  no  other  means  of  eliminating  the 
grossest  of  the  errors  then  inevitable  to  observation. 

Page  117,  1.  6.  Cf.  Stobaius,  Eclogues,  i.  22  (i.  196  Wachsmuth) 
=  /Etius  in  Doxogr.,  336,  22)7-  It  has  been  conjectured  on  the  best 
grounds  that  the  torch  which  the  bride's  mother  waved  at  the 
marriage  ceremony  was  "  kindled  at  the  parental  hearth "  (cf. 
Herman-Bliimner,  Griecli.  Privataltertuiner,  275,  n.  i  :  "  Hence  a*' 
kcTTlas  &yfiv  yvi/a7Ka,  Iambi.,  l//t.  Pythagor.,  c.  18,  §  84").  It  seems  an 
almost    unavoidable   assumption    that   the   new   hearth  was  kindled 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  545 

with  the  same  torch,  especially  in  view  of  the  similar  custom  obtain- 
ing at  the  foundation  of  colonies.  For  this  last  ceremony,  cf. 
Herodotus,  i.  146  ;  Scholiast  to  Aristides,  iii.  p.  48,  8  Dindorf  ;  Etymol. 
Magn.y  p.  694,  28  Gaisford. 

Page  118,  1.  II.    Karl  Ernst  von  Baer :  Rcden  .  .  .  unci  Kleiner e 
Aufsdizen,  St.  Petersburg,  1864,  i.  264.    On  the  harmony  of  the  spheres 
and  the  reason  why  it  is  inaudible,  cf.  especially  Aristotle,  De  Calo,  ii.  9. 
Page  119,  1.  9.     Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  5. 

Page  120,  1.  10.  "  Eclipses  of  the  moon,  which  occurred  so 
frequently."  As  a  matter  of  fact,  eclipses  of  the  sun  are  more  frequent  ; 
thus  in  the  period  of  time  comprised  in  Oppolzer's  Canon  der  Finster- 
nisse  there  are  800a  eclipses  of  the  sun  against  5200  of  the  moon.  At 
every  single  point  of  the  earth,  however,  very  many  more  of  the  latter 
than  of  the  former  are  visible. 

Page  120,  1.  20.  "Extension  of  the  geographical  horizon:"  On 
Hanno's  Pcriplus  and  the  influence  of  that  voyage  of  discovery  on  the 
transformation  of  the  doctrine  of  a  central  fire,  cf.  Schiaparelli,  / 
Precursori^etc.  (separate  edition),  p.  25,  and  H.  Berger,  IVissenschaft- 
licJie  Erdkunde,  ii.  387. 

Page  121, 1.  15.  Heraclides  :  cf.  chiefly  Laert.  Diog.,  V.  ch.  6.  The 
view  taken  in  the  text  of  Heraclides  as  the  immediate  precursor  of 
Aristarchus,  is  based  on  the  account  by  Geminus,  in  Simplicius, 
Phys.,  292,  20^  D . — a  passage  not  without  its  difficulties.  After  the 
most  ample  consideration,  I  find  myself  compelled  to  dissent  from 
Diels'  view  of  the  passage  {jjber  das  pliysik.  System  dcs  Straion,  in 
the  Berliner  Sitzuny;s-Berichte,  1893,  p.  18.  n.  r).  Either  the  passage 
must  be  emended,  precisely  or  similarly  as  Bergk  proposed  {F'l'inf 
Abhandluni(en  zur  Gesch.  der  i^ricch.  Philos.  n.  Asironotnie,  149),  or 
the  words  'HpoKA.6/577s  6  UovriK6s  must  be  taken  as  inserted  by  a  (well- 
informed)  reader.  The  evidence  for  the  progress  of  astronomy 
described  in  the  text,  and  likewise  the  explanation  of  that  progress, 
are  given  by  Schiaparelli,  op.  cit.  The  doctrine  of  Aristarchus  was 
mentioned  by  Copernicus,  in  a  passage  which  he  afterwards  sup- 
pressed :  "  Credibile  est  hisce  similibusque  causis  Philolaum  mobilita- 
tem  terras  sensisse,  quod  etiam  nonnulli  Aristarchum  Samium  feruni 
in  eadem  fuisse  sentcntia,"  etc.  {^De  Revolut.  CcclesL^  ed.  Thorun.^ 
1873,  P-  34  n.). 

Book  I.— Chapter  V. 

Page  124,  1.  I.     Aristotle  :  De  Ajiivia,  i.  3y?«. 

Page  124,  1.4.  Xenophancs  :  apud  La.cri.  Diog.,  viii.  36.  The 
suspicions  lately  uttered  concerning  the  reference  to  Pythagoras  in 
these  verses  seem  to  me  totally  groundless — as  groundless  as  the 
similar  doubt  that  has  been  expressed  as  to  the  testimony  of  Empe- 
docles  (1.  15),  cp.  Stein,  41 5# 

VOL.   I.  2  X 


546  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  124,  1.  20.  Gallic  Druids:  cf.  Wilkinson's  account  in 
G.  Rawlinson,  History  of  Herodotus,  ed.  3,  ii.  196. 

The  Druses:  cf.  Benjamin  of  Tudela  (12th  century)  in  Tylor, 
Prim.  Culture,  ii.  13.  The  other  ethnographical  details  are  also 
taken  from  Tylor,  op.  cit.,  ch.  12,  though  his  derivation  of  the  belief  in 
metempsychosis  from  the  physical  and  spiritual  resemblance  between 
descendants  and  ancestors  (ii.  14),  seems  to  me  quite  an  inadequate 
explanation. 

Page  126,  1.  8.  Indirect  evidence  of  the  non-Greek  origin  of 
metempsychosis  is  afforded  by  the  vain  endeavours  of  the  most  bitter 
antagonists  of  that  origin  ;  Dieterich,  for  example,  in  his  valuable 
book  Nekyia,  p.  90,  finally  contents  himself  with  pointing  out  mere 
vague  possibilities. 

Page  126,  1.  28.     Herodotus,  ii.  123. 

Page  126,  11.  35i?!  The  quotation  is  from  Erman,  Life  in  Ancient 
Egypt,  306  (English  trans.,  London,  1894).  What  follows  is  based  on 
Maspero,  Bibliotheqtie  ^gyptologique,  ii.  467,  n.  3,  and  466.  Maspero, 
ibid.,  i.  349,  ascribes  metempsychosis  to  the  Egyptian  belief  in  the  age 
when  the  country  came  into  contact  with  Greece.  He  considers  that 
in  later  times  these  theories  fell  into  discredit  or  even  almost  entirely 
disappeared.  In  a  later  treatise  (the  passage  first  quoted),  Maspero 
modifies  this  judgment  of  his,  in  the  words  :  "  II  ne  faut  pas  oublier 
que  I'assomption  de  toutes  ces  formes  est  purement  volontaire  et  ne 
marque  nuUement  le  passage  de  I'ame  humaine  dans  un  corps  de 
bete." 

Page  127,  11.  25^.  On  the  pre-Buddhistic  origin  of  the  Indian 
belief  in  metempsychosis,  cf.  Jacob,  A  Manual  of  Hindu  Pantheism, 
ed.  2,  p.  25.  As  I  have  learned  from  my  colleague,  Professor  Biihler, 
that  belief  arose  in  an  age  that  cannot  be  fixed  quite  accurately, 
though  it  fell  in  a  very  early  period  of  the  Brahman  religion  and 
literature.  The  chief  work  promulgating  the  new  doctrine  is  regarded, 
even  in  the  oldest  Buddhist  writings,  as  of  primeval  legendary 
antiquity.  On  the  lifetime  of  Buddha  (who  died  not  long  after 
500  B.C.),  cf.  Oldenberg,  Buddha,  ed.  2,  p.  2.  On  that  of  Zarathustra, 
cf.  Justi,  Geschichte  Pcrsiens,  67,  68.  "  In  India  Cyrus  had  already 
subjugated  the  Gandarians  south  of  the  river  Kabul"  [ibid.,  96). 

Page  128,  §  2.  On  what  follows,  cf.  especially  Rohde  {Psyche). 
He  seems  to  me  to  err  only  in  a  tendency  to  overrate  the  influence  of 
the  Thracians,  whom  Herodotus  justly  speaks  of  as  living  "  wretchedly 
and  in  a  very  uncivilized  manner"  (iv.  95,  trans.  Gary),  and  who  in 
truth  were  savage  and  predatory,  and  to  underrate  the  moral  elements 
of  Orphicism.  To  discuss  these  questions  here  would  lead  us  too  far. 
With  regard  to  the  second  point  we  may  refer  to  Dieterich's  Nekyia, 
193)  194  ;  with  regard  to  the  first,  the  reader  may  be  briefly  reminded 
that  the  features  most  characteristic  of  Orphicism,  such  as  con- 
sciousness   of  sin,    craving    for    purification    and    redemption,    the 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  547 

penalties  of  Hades,  etc.,  are  absolutely  undiscoverable  among  the 
Thracians. 

Page  130,  1.  5.  For  Crete,  cf.  Joubin,  "  Inscription  crctoise  relative 
i  I'Orphisme,"  in  the  Bulletin  dc  correspondence  helldtiiqtie^  xvii.  121- 
124. 

Page  131,  1.  7.     On  the  belief  in  retribution,  cp.  pp.  81,  82. 

Page  131,'!.  9.  Image  of  the  Erinyes  :  cf.  Rohde,  Psyche,  i.  270, 
(ed.  2),  and  more  details  in  Rhein.  Mus.,  L.  p.  6. 

Page  131,  11.  2<^  Jf.  On  these  crude  representations  of  a  blissful 
after-life,  cf.  Dieterich,  op.  cit.,  79,  80.  The  numerous  parallels 
adduced  by  him,  to  which  I  might  add  the  wide  selection  (from 
various  ancient  Indian  sources)  given  by  Muir,  Sanscrit  Texts.,  v.  307 
ff.,  make  the  conclusion  that  the  Orphic  dogmas  were  of  Thracian 
origin  appear  extremely  hazardous. 

Page  132,  1.  10.  "Hypnotic  trance:"  on  the  use  of  hypnotism 
in  the  ascetic  meditation  of  the  Buddhists,  cf.  H.  Kern,  Der  Bud- 
dhismus  nnd  seine  Geschichtc  in  Lidien  (trans,  into  German  by 
Jacobi),  i.  502. 

For  what  follows,  the  reader  may  be  referred  to  Rohde,  ibid.,  ii. 
14 ;  Eduard  Meyer,  Geschichte  Agypiens,  87 ;  Fr.  Lenormant's 
article,  "  Eleusis,"  in  Daremberg  and  Saglio,  Dictionnaire  des  Anti- 
quith;  and  Dieterich,  De  liymnis  Orphicis  capitiila  quingne,  38. 

Page  133,  1.  29.  Confession  of  sin  :  cf.  Maspero,  Bibliotheque 
EgyptoL,  ii.  A^9ff- 

Page  134,  11.  13-15.  I  have  added  two  items  of  the  confessional 
from  Brugsch,  Stcininschri/t  und  Bibelwort,  253,  254,  a  quite  justi- 
liable  "contaminatio,''  as  experts  assure  me,  since  the  negative  con- 
fession of  sins  displays  manifold  variants  in  different  texts.  Cf.  also 
Maspero,  Hist.  ancie?me,  etc.,  191. 

Page  135,  1.  3.     "  Plato's  expression:  "  I'itnccus,  22  B. 

Page  136,  1.  10.  "Horror  of  bloodshed:"  cf.  Aristoph.,  Frogs, 
1032,  Meineke  :    'Opipths  fxkv  yap  reAeros  6'  rifilv  KariSet^e  (p6ywv  r'  aTrexeffOai. 

Page  136,  1.  13.  "Dike  and  Nomos:"  cf.  Orphica,  passim,  and 
especially  Fragm.  33  ;   125,  i  ;  126,  Abel. 

Page  138,  1.  19.  "  Authors  of  Orphic  poems  :  "  cf.  Rohde,  Psyche, 
ii.  106  (ed.  2). 

Page  138,  1.  39.  "  Particles  of  dust  in  the  sunlight :  "  according  to 
Aristotle,  De  Aniina,  i.  2. 

Page  139,  1.  26.  "  Leaning  to  monotheism  :  "  according  to  Cicero, 
De  Deoriim  Natura,  i.  1 1  (27). 

Page  139,  1.  27.  "  Dualism  :  "  according  to  /l^tius,  aptid  Stob;eum, 
Eclogues,  i.  I  =  Doxogr.  Gr.,  302. 

Page  139,  1.  34.  "  Exhalation  of  the  world  ;"  Aristotle,  Phys.,  iv. 
6,  p.  213,  B  22,  where  I  read  amlt  and  cancel  ■Kviv^a.-ros  (as  Chaignel 
also  tentatively  proposed). 

Page  140,  1.  4,     "  Remark  of  Eudemus :  "  pp.  73,  74,  Spcngci. 


54^  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  142,  11.  23^  "  The  '  world-year  '  ...  of  the  Babylonians  : " 
cf.  Lenormant-Babelon,  Hisioirc  de  T Orient^  ed.  9,  v.  175.  Somewhat 
differently  Berossus,  in    Syncellus  (C.  Miiller,  Fragm.  Hist.   Gr.,  ii. 

499)- 

Page  143,  1.  7.  "  Periodical  conflagrations  and  floods : "  cf 
Seneca,  Quacst.  Nat.,  iii.  29,  as  well  as  Censorinus,  De  Die  Na-t., 
18,  ir.    ~' 

Page    143,   1.    19.     "Double   destruction:"   cf.  Doxogr.    Gr.  333, 

Iff- 

Page  143,  1.  24.  "  We  cannot  admit,"  etc.  :  the  opinion  here  con- 
tested is  that  of  Zeller :  "  When  the  stars  resume  their  former  places, 
everything  else  must  return  to  the  same  condition,  and  similar  per- 
sons must  likewise  be  present  in  the  same  circumstances  as  before  " 
{Philos.  der  Griechcn,  ed.  5,  i.  443). 

Page  143,  1.  31.  Theophrastus  :  cf.  Engelbrecht,  in  Eranos  Vindo- 
botiensis,  129.  The  Pythagoreans  may  be  credited  with  the  know- 
ledge of  isolated  tenets  of  the  Babylonian  astronomy,  just  as  Heraclitus 
was  acquainted  with  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  their  astrology,  as 
shown  by  Engelbrecht,  ibid.,  126.  But  it  is  too  great  a  jump  from 
this  to  the  assumption  that  old  Greek  philosophers — above  all,  the 
Pythagoreans,  or  any  considerable  section  of  them^simply  followed 
the  lead  of  the  Babylonians  on  a  fundamental  question  intimately 
bound  up  with  the  whole  view  of  the  world,  or  rather  followed  their 
astrological  system  to  its  extreme  consequences,  and  developed  it 
further.  We  may  add  that  Eudemus,  who  occasionally  touches  on 
religious  doctrines  of  the  Phoenicians  and  the  (Zoroastrian)  Magi 
(p.  171,  Spengel),  would  then  have  been  just  the  man  to  recognize 
and  point  out  such  a  connection. 

Page  146,  1.  28.  Hippasus  of  Metapontum  :  cf.  Aristotle,  Metaphys. 
i.  3,  and  Theophrastus  (in  Doxogr.  Gr.  475,  476)  ;  also  ^tius,  ibid., 
283,  284. 

Page  147,  §  5.  Cf.  for  the  whole  of  this  section,  the  collection  and 
discussion  of  the  fragments  in  the  supplement  appended  to  the  pro- 
gramme of  the  Gymnasium  at  Wittenberg:  Alkniceon  Ton  Kroion,  hy 
Julius  Sander  (Wittenberg,  1893).  Alcmason  and  his  significance 
were  to  a  certain  extent  rediscovered  by  Philippson,  in  his  "tat;  avdpw- 
ttIvt]  (Berlin,  1831).  Note,  for  example,  what  he  says  (pp.  20,  21)  on 
a  passage  of  Theophrastus  overlooked  by  all  previous  scholars. 

The  proem  of  his  book,  apudhTitxi.  Diog.  viii.  5,  2.  In  translating 
the  concluding  words,  I  have  read  &>$  5'  ivepanrov  reK/xalpfaeai,  instead  of 
ws  S'  avdpwTrois  reKfialpecrOat,  which  seems  to  me  impossible.  Some  such 
phrase  as  ex^'  '^"'^  ^5e  may  have  followed. 

Page  148,  1.  9.  "  The  brain  as  the  central  organ  : "  according  to 
Theophr.,  De  Sensibus,  §  26  =  Doxogr.  Gr.,  507. 

Page  148,  1.  28.  "The  .  .  .  belief  that  the  sperma  originates  in 
the  spinal  marrow  "  is  not  merely  a  Greek,  but  also  an  Indian  and 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  549 

a  Persian  belief;  cf.  Darmesteter,  Zend-Avesta,  i.  164,  n.  i   (Sacred 
Books  of  the  East,  vol.  iv.). 

Page  148,  1.  35.  "  Doctrine  concerning  sickness  and  health  :  "  cf. 
Doxogr.  Gr.,  442.  In  that  connection,  cf.  the  much-disputed  doctrine 
of  contraries,  Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  5. 

Page  149, 1.  8.  The  echoes  in  Geber  I  take  from  Berthelot's  essay- 
in  the  Revue  des  Deux  Mondes,  1893,  p.  551  :  "  Quand  il  y  a  equilibre 
entre  leurs  natures"  (he  is  speaking  of  the  four  elements,  and  the  four 
fundamental  qualities,  the  hot,  the  cold,  the  dry,  and  the  moist),  "  les 
choses  deviennent  inaltcrables.  .  .  .  Tel  est  encore  le  principe  de  Part 
medical,  applique  a  la  gudrison  des  maladies."  Berthelot  here  recog- 
nizes Greek  influences,  without  expressly  recalling  Alcma^on.  Nor, 
indeed,  was  Alcmason  alone  in  proclaiming  the  four  fundamental 
qualities  just  mentioned.  But  even  as  early  as  Aristotle  they  occur 
exclusively  in  a  connection  which  clearly  reveals  the  influence  of 
Alcmaeon  ;  cf.  Sander,  op.  ciL,  31.  Likewise  in  the  treatise  of 
Polybus,  De  Natura  HomiHis  (Littre,  CEuvres  d''Hippocrate,  vi.  38). 
The   traces   of  Alcmaeon  are   most   unmistakable   in   the   following 

passage  :  TroXXa  yap  icTTiv  iv  T(f  adifxaTi.  iveovra,  h.  OKOTav  vir'  a?^i)\aiv  napa 
<pv(Tiv  Oeppiaii/rjTai  re  Kot  »|/ux'J'''"'  '''*'  ^TjpaiyriTai  re  koI  vypaiur]Tai,  vovcrovs 
rlKTfi  (td/d.,  36).  Littrd  himself  (i.  562)  clearly  recognized  that 
Alcmceon  was  a  precursor  of  Hippocrates. 

Page  149,  11.  14^  On  AlcmiEon's  doctrines  of  the  several  senses. 
cf.  Theophrastus  op.  cit. ;  /Etius  and  yEius  Didymus  in  Doxogr.  Gr., 
223,  404,  456.  To  these  may  be  added  the  pertinent  remarks  of 
Diels,  "  Gorgias  und  Empedokles,"  Berliner  Sitzicngsbcrichtc,  April , 
1884,  pp.  II,  12,  and  Hcrincs,  xxviii.  421,  n.  2,  where,  by-the-by,  the 
reference  to  Aristotle,  De  General.  Animal.,  must  be  read  B  6,  744  A  7 
(and  not  363  A  7).  My  colleague,  Professor  Biihler,  has  directed  my 
attention  to  the  very  remarkable  similarity  between  Alcma'on's  theory 
of  vision  and  the  Indian  theory,  most  completely  elaborated  in  the 
Nyaya-  Vai'seshika.  According  to  that  doctrine  the  organ  of  sight 
consists  of  "fire;"  this  combines  with  the  object  and  assumes  its 
shape.  The  impression  thus  produced  is  received  by  the  "  inner 
organ,"  the  tnanas,  and  is  transmitted  by  it  to  the  dlntan,  the  soul 
proper. 

Page  150,  1.  8.  Psychology  of  Alcm;eon :  according  to  Theo- 
phrastus, op.  cit.  §  25  =  Doxogr.  Gr.,  506  ;  supplemented  by  Plato, 
Pha:do,  96  B,  and  Thccdrus,  249  B.  On  its  after  effects  in  Aristotle, 
cf.  Sander,  op.  cit.,  25,  26,  following  Hirzel's  precedent,  especially 
with  reference  to  Analytica  Post.,  \\.  19. 

Page  150,  1.  16.  On  the  proof  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  cf. 
Aristotle,  De  Aninia,  i.  2. 

Page  151,  1.  4.     Plato:  P/ucdrus,  245  c. 

Page  151,  1.  13.  For  the  proof  of  "  the  perishability  of  the  body,"' 
cf.  Aristotle,  Prohl.  17,  3. 


550  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 


BOOK   II. 

The  motto  is  from  Helmholtz,  Vortrdge  unci  Reden,  ii.  189  ("  Das 
Denken  in  der  Medicin  "). 

Book  II. — Chapter  I. 

Page  155.  The  surviving  writings  of  the  Eleatics  are  collected  in 
MuUach,  Artstotclis  dc  Mclisso  XenopJiane  ct  Gorgia  Dlspiitationcs 
ciini  Elenticorum  P]iilosopho7'nni  Fragmcntis,  etc.,  Berlin,  1845.  This 
alleged  Aristotelian  book  is  the  work  of  a  late  and  in  many  respects  an 
ill-informed  Peripatetic,  as  has  at  last  been  established  after  long 
discussion  among  scholars.  Mullach's  collection  of  fragments  (in 
which  Zeno  is  not  represented)  has  been  added  to,  as  far  as  Xenophanes 
is  concerned,  by  Ferdinand  Diimmler,  Rhcifi.  Miis.,y\i\.  139,  140,  and 
N.  Bach,  Jahrb.fi'ir  iviss.  Kritik^  1831,  i.  480.  Cf.  also  the  author's 
"  Beitrage  zur  Kritik  u.  Erklarung  griech.  Schriftsteller,"  iii.,  Wiener 
Sitztcngsber.,  1875,  57°  ff-  The  literary  remains  of  Xenophanes, 
Parmenides,  and  Empedocles  have  been  collected  and  interpreted  by 
Karsten,  in  his  work,  PJiilosophorum  Grceconwi  Vetertim  .  .  .  Operutn 
Reliqnicc^  Amsterdam,  1830-38. 

Xenophanes  :  chief  sources,  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  2  ;  also  Aristotle, 
Clement  of  Alexandria,  Sextus  Empiricus. 

As  to  the  chronology  of  Xenophanes,  we  must  start  from  the 
evidence  given  by  his  own  fragments,  and,  in  the  second  instance, 
from  the  fact  that  he  mentions  Pythagoras,  and  in  his  turn  is  mentioned 
by  Heraclitus.  According  to  Fragm.  24,  he  left  his  home  at  the  age  of 
twenty-five  ;  his  emigration  may  very  possibly  have  been  due  to  the 
Persian  conquest  (545  B.C.),  especially  as  Fragm.  17  almost  certainly 
shows  that  it  did  not  anyhow  occur  before  that  date.  If  this  calculation 
is  correct,  he  was  born  in  570  ;  and  since,  according  to  the  evidence  of 
Fragm.  24,  he  reached  the  age  of  at  least  92  (and  of  more  than  100 
according  to  Censorinus,  Dc  Die  Natali,  15,  3),  the  statement  of  the 
historian  Timt^us  (apud  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Stromat.,  i.  353,  Pott.) 
that  Xenophanes  lived  in  the  time  of  Hiero  I.  (478-467)  may  be 
defended  as  correct. 

Page  155,  1.  12.  "  The  poor  rhapsodist:"  His  penurious  condition 
is  vouched  for  by  the  apophthegm  in  Gnomolog.  Paris.,  ed.  Sternbach, 
Cracow,  1895,  No.  160,  where  Xenophanes,  questioned  by  Hiero  as 
to  how  many  slaves  he  owns,  answers,  "  Two  only,  and  even  these  I 
can  hardly  support."  An  anecdote  like  this  would  never  have  been 
circulated  if  he  had  been  one  of  the  highly  paid  members  of  his  pro- 
fession.    Cf.  also  Fragm.  22. 

Page  155,  11.  25,  26.  The  local  description  is  based  on  the  author's 
personal  observation.  The  "  single  soaring  tower  "  is  called  Torre  di 
Velia,  and  is  not  of  ancient  origin. 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  55  I 

Page  157,  1.  8  to  p.  158,  1.  4.  For  the  ideas  here  expressed  the 
author  is  indebted  to  a  conversation  with  Hermann  Usener  at  the 
Philological  Congress  in  Vienna,  May,  1893. 

Page  158, 1.  39.  Aristotle  :  Mctapliys.,  i.  5  ;  and  Timon  (Wachs- 
muth,  Corpusc.  pocs.  ludib.,  156). 

Page  160.  Xenophanes  was  formerly  regarded  as  the  first  Greek 
monotheist.  The  decisive  arguments  to  the  contrary  are  contained 
and  driven  home  in  Freudenthal's  treatise,  tfbcr  die  Theologic  dcs 
Xcnoplianes,  Breslau,  1886,  to  which  our  account  is  much  indebted. 
At  the  same  time,  Zeller  can  justly  claim  to  have  exposed  some  of  the 
weaker  links  in  Freudenthal's  chain  of  evidence  (cf.  Deutsche  Littc- 
raturzcitjotg,  13  Nov.,  1886,  and  ArcJiiv,  ii.  i  ff.). 

Page  160,  1.  34.  "An  imitation  in  Euripides  :"  Hercules  Furens, 
1 343)  compared  with  Pseudo- Plutarch,  Siroinat.,  apud  Euseb.,  Prcrp. 
Evaiig-.,  i.  8,  4. 

Pages  160,  161.  The  alleged  monotheism  of  Xenophanes  is  at 
once  and  finally  confuted  by  the  single  verse,  Efs  Qths  iv  re  dtolai  Kai 
avdpu'iroiai  /ufytaros,  Fragm.  I.  Its  testimony  could  be  weakened  only 
by  the  interpretation — contrary  to  the  straightforward  sense  of  the 
line — "compared  with"  real  "men  and"  imagitiary  "gods."  Von 
Wilamowitz,  Euripides  Herakles,  ed.  r,  ii.  246,  with  whom  I  cannot 
agree  in  this  instance,  holds  a  different  opinion.  We  much  prefer 
to  recognize  the  reference  here  to  a  supreme  god  who  is  hardly  less 
superior  to  the  lower  gods  than  to  mankind.  Cf.  perhaps  Rig  Veda, 
X.  121.  8,  "  He  who  by  his  might  looked  even  over  the  waters  which 
held  power  (the  germ)  and  generated  the  sacrifice  (light),  he  tvho  alone 
is  God  above  all  gods : — Who  is  the  God  to  whom  we  shall  offer 
sacrifice .'' "  translated  by  F.  Max  Miiller,  Vedic  Hymns,  part  i.  p.  2, 
Oxford,  1 89 1  (Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  vol.  32). 

Page  162,  11.  15,  16.  Besides  Syracuse  and  Malta,  our  authority 
(Hippolytus,  i.  14)  likewise  mentions  Paros  ;  but  my  colleague,  Prof. 
Suess,  informs  me  that  there  are  no  fossils  in  Paros.  A  remark  in  his 
letter,  to  the  effect  that  the  impressions  of  seals,  alleged  to  be  dis- 
covered there,  are  a  paUeontological  impossibility,  has  led  me  to  the 
conjecture  that,  by  a  very  slight  change,  <pvKuv  or  <pvKiwv  ("  of  sea- 
weed") should  be  read  instead  of  (pwKuv.  On  this  emendation  Suess 
remarks,  "  Quite  clear  and  striking  impressions  of  fucoids,  which 
even  the  layman  readily  recognizes  as  such,  are  found  in  a  light-grey 
marl-slate,  alternating  with  sandstone,  not  indeed  in  the  quarries  (of 
Syracuse)  themselves,  but  at  no  very  great  distance  from  them,  and  in 
many  other  parts  of  Sicily."  Cf.  Pseudo-Plutarch,  apud  lOuseb.,  loc.  cit., 
Tif  XP^^V  xaTa(p(pofX(yr}v  avvtx'^^  'f^  kot'  oKiyov  Trjv  yrji/  is  rr^v  OaKaa'aai' 
Xoopt7v. 

Page  164,  1.   5.     Aristotle  :  Metaphys.,  i.  5,  986  B.  21,    ~.ivo<^i.vr\% 

5t   .    .   .   oh%\v  Stfffa'p'fii'iafv. 

Page  164,  ch.  i.  Jin.     We  may  briefly  advert  at  this  point  to  the 


55-  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

remarkable  parallelism  in  the  development  of  Greek  and  Hindoo 
thought.  How  surprising  it  is  to  observe  that  (according  to  Oldenberg, 
Buddha,  45,  ed.  2)  the  "first  traces  "  of  the  doctrine  "  of  metempsy- 
chosis occur  in  the  Vedic  texts  not  long  before  the  first  appearance  of 
the  doctrine  of  the  eternal  One,"  precisely  as  the  metempsychosis 
of  Pythagoras  immediately  precedes  the  Universal-Unity  doctrine  of 
Xenophanes  !  But  in  other  respects  likewise  the  doctrine  of  dtman 
strikingly  reminds  us  of  the  Eleatic  theory  of  Ens.  In  spite  of  this 
agreement,  however,  there  are  very  considerable  differences  that  must 
not  be  overlooked.  The  excess  of  visionary  enthusiasm  among  the 
Hindoos  is  an  excess  of  rational  reflection  among  the  Greeks.  The 
difference  leaps  to  light  when  we  remember,  for  instance,  the  geological 
speculations  of  Xenophanes  in  the  domain  of  natural  science,  or  the 
attempts  of  Parmenides,  in  the  second  part  of  his  didactic  poem,  to 
give  a  scientific  explanation  of  the  cosmic  processes.  In  Hindoo  specu- 
lation, metaphysics  are  connected  almost  exclusively  with  religion  ;  in 
Greek,  not  merely  with  religion,  but  also  with  science.  Thus,  though 
the  results  of  thought  display  a  striking  similarity  in  either  instance, 
I  was  yet  entitled  to  presume  motives  of  thought  in  the  instance  of  the 
Greeks  of  an  essentially  different  kind. 

Book  II. — Chapter  II. 

The  fragments  of  the  poem  of  Parmenides  were  re-edited  after 
Mullach,  by  Heinrich  Stein,  in  the  Syinbola  PJiilologorH7n  Boiuiciisiiiin.^ 
Leipsic,  1867,  fascic.  post.  765-806. 

Page  165,  1.  2.  "  On  the  nature  of  man  :  "  Littrc,  CEuvrcs  d' Hip- 
po crate,  vi.  32  ff". 

Page  166, 1.  16.  "  Un-natural  philosophers  "  and  "  stoppers-of-the- 
Universe:"  cf.  Plato,  Thcatctns,  181,  A.,  and  Aristotle,  apud  Sext. 
Emp.,  Adv.  Mathcmat.,  x.  46  (p.  485,  25,  Bekker). 

Page  166,  §  2.  The  chief  source  for  the  biography  of  Parmenides 
is  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  3.  As  boundary-marks  in  the  chronology  of  his 
life,  we  may  mention  generally  that  he  was  a  younger  contemporary 
of  Xenophanes,  and  likewise  of  Heraclitus  (whose  doctrines  he  knew 
and  ridiculed)  ;  that  he  was  older  than  Melissus,  and  (according  to 
Plato's  trustworthy  statement,  Pannentdcs,  127  B)  a  quarter  of  a 
century  older  than  Zeno.  We  do  not  know  the  foundation  for  the 
date  of  his  "  floruit  "  given  by  Apollodorus  ;  but  it  seems  to  me  wholly 
illegitimate  to  impute  arbitrary  calculations  to  that  great  and  con- 
scientious inquirer  in  this  instance,  considering  that  he  relied  on  none 
but  autobiographical  testimony  in  his  chronology  of  Anaximander  and 
Democritus,  and  that  he  discussed  the  chronology  of  Empcdocles,  in 
verses  which  we  still  possess,  in  the  minutest  fashion. 

Page  167,  1.  35.     For  the  quotation  from   Melissus,  cf.  Mullach, 
op.  cit.,  82,  83.    I  have  emended  the  concluding  sentence  of  the  passage 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  553 

by  a  transposition  which  the  sense  requires  ;  cf.  "  Apologie  der  Heil- 
kunst,"  167  {Wiener  Sitzuiii^sbcr.^  1891,  No.  ix,). 

Page  169,  11.  1^  ff.  Cf.  Mullach,  op.  cit.,  114,  vv.  45-51.  The 
reference  to  Heraclitus  was  recognized  and  proved  by  Bernays,  AV/^/«. 
Mits.,  New  Series,  vii.  i  i^ff. 

Page  171.  Since  the  denial  of  the  generation  and  decay  of  matter 
continues  to  be  ascribed  to  the  Eleatics  alone,  and  not  to  their  prede- 
cessors, it  seems  necessary  to  add  at  this  point  the  express  testimony 

of  Aristotle,  Phys.,  i.  4,  187  A  26  :  Aia  rb  inTo\aiJ.fiaveiv  Trjv  koivt]v  S6^av  raiv 
(pvaiKuiv  .  .  .  ,  ws  ob  yiyvo/jLei/ov  ov^€vhs  eK  rod  /nr)  ovtos.  Metaphvs..^  i.  3,  984 
Pi./in.  :  Th  ev  aKCvrjTSv  (pacrtv  ilvai  Kal  ti]^  <pvcriv  o\r]v  ov  jxavov  Kara  yiviaiv  Kal 
epOopav  (rovTo  fitv  yap  apxa76y  re  Kal  irdpres  o;/u.o\6yri(Tav).  I/j/d.,  984  All:  Kal 
Sia  rovTo  oijreyiyveffOai  ovdfu  olovrat  otre  airoWvcrOat  (viz.  the  old  physiolo- 
gists from  Thales  downwards).     Metaphys.^  xi.  6,  1062  B  24  :  t^  yap 

firi^ev  (K  jUt;  uvros  ylyviaQai  irav  5'  €|  uvros  o'xeSbi'  airauroiv  ecri  KOivhv  So'y^a  rSiv 
iT(p\  (pvfffias. 

Page  172,  1.  9.  "  One  of  Parmenides'  expressions  :  "  we  refer  to 
Stein,  V.  66. 

Page  172,  1.  32.  The  "telling  fragment"  of  Anaxagoras  was 
brought  to  light  by  Diels  (in  Hermes,  xiii.  4)  from  a  scholion  to 
Gregory  of  Nazianzus,  Migne,  Patrol.  Gr.,  xxxvi.  901. 

Page  175,  1.  23.  "A  distinguished  physiologist:"  Du  Bois- 
Reymond,  in  the  Sitzungsberichtc  der  kgl.  preuss.  Akadeniie  der 
Wissenseh.,  ''  Begriissung  des  Herrn  Landolt,"  Febr.  1882. 

Page  177,  1.  10.  "The  existence  of  a  vacuum."  It  is  true  that 
the  word  "vacuum"  ((cej/eoV)  has  only  found  its  way  into  the  text 
(Stein,  V.  84)  by  means  of  a  false  conjecture.  But  the  conception  on 
its  own  account  plays  an  important  part  in  Parmenides.  At  one  time 
it  appears  as  the  contrary  of  cjUTrXeo;/,  "  the  full ; "  at  another,  the  vacuum 
(the  empty  or  non-ens)  has  to  be  supplied  in  thought  as  the  subject  of 
the  verb  airoTfiri^fi,  which  has  been  persecuted  with  vain  emendations,  in 
Stein,  vv.  38-40,  which  are  to  be  separated  from  what  precedes  and  in 

no  wise  belong  to  the  proem  :  ov  yap  awur/xri^fL  rh  ire\ov  rod  iouros  ex'^^"' 
oCt€  (TKiSvafxevov  iravrrj  Travrcos  Kara  K6(Tfioi/  otjn  avvLcrrafJiiVov. 

Page  177,  I.  20.  "  In  the  circle  of  the  Pythagoreans."  Cf.  what 
Natorp,  following  Biiumker,  has  said  on  this  point,  P/i//osi>/)/i.  Monats- 
hefle,  xxvii.  476.  This  is  evident,  moreover,  from  Aristotle,  Phys.,  iv.  6 
(213  B  22),  where,  however,  the  vacuum  appears  in  another  applica- 
tion. Perhaps  it  would  actually  be  more  appropriate  not  to  inquire 
about  the  authors  of  this  doctrine  at  all,  but  rather  of  the  opposite  one. 
For,  after  all,  the  old  mythical  view  was  that  originally  a  vacuum  had 
stretched  from  the  highest  height  to  the  lowest  depth,  the  gap  now 
yawning  between  heaven  and  earth  being  the  remains  thereof.  And 
in  common  consciousness  even  the  air  too,  before  its  pressure  and 
resistance  had  been  ascertained  by  experiments  such  as  those  of 
Anaxagoras,  was  regarded  as  a  vacuum,  and  not  as  a  "something" 


554  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

(cf.  Aristotle,  Phys.  iv.  6,  213  A  25).  It  was  through  these  and  similar 
attempts  that  the  problem  of  motion  first  entered  the  world.  It  is 
easy  enough  indeed  to  try  to  disguise  the  physical  problem  with  a 
metaphysical  cloak,  and  to  discover  its  essence  in  the  phrase,  "the  full 
cannot  take  in  anything"  (see  p.  350).  Such  an  apory,  however, 
would  never  have  occurred  to  any  one,  as  long  as  that  medium  in 
which  movements  are  executed  almost  without  any  resistance  was  not 
recognized  as  full,  or  at  least  as  not  essentially  different  from  full. 

Page  180,1.  10.     Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  5,  986  B  31. 

Page  181, 1.  35.  "  Orphic  iniluences  "  have  been  traced  by  O.  Kern, 
De  Orphei  .  .  .   Theogojiiis,  52,  and  in  the  Archiv,  iii.  173. 

Page  182,  1.  24.  On  the  world  as  depicted  by  Parmenides,  cf. 
H.  Berger,  Geschichie  der  wissenschaftl.  Erkunde,  etc.,  ii.  31^. 

Book  II. — Chapter  III. 

Melissus.  Personal  details  about  him  in  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  4. 
Apollodorus  there  puts  \{\?,floricit  in  the  84th  Olympiad.  It  is  obvious 
and  has  been  generally  acknowledged  that  the  year  01.  84,4  =  441  B.C. 
is  intended,  in  which  Melissus  won  the  naval  battle  mentioned  in  the 
text.  Here  for  once  we  can  lay  actual  hands  on  Apollodorus'  method 
of  procedure  in  connecting  his  personal  facts  with  some  historical 
event  whose  date  he  could  fix  with  certainty,  while  otherwise  we  are 
frequently  obliged  merely  to  presume  it.  Remains  of  Melissus'  treatise, 
"  On  Nature  or  Ens,"  are  preserved  for  us  almost  solely  by  Simplicius 
in  his  commentaries  on  Aristotle's  Physics  and  Dc  Ccclo,  which  we  now 
possess  in  the  greatly  improved  editions  of  Diels  and  Heiberg.  Cf. 
further  A.  Pabst  in  his  dissertation  De  Melissi  Saniii  Fragtnentis, 
Bonn,  18S9.  According  to  this  investigation,  it  can  now  be  accounted 
as  at  least  highly  probable  that  only  a  portion  of  the  fragments  really 
deserve  that  name,  while  in  others  the  ideas  of  Melissus  are  not 
rendered  with    literal  fidelity. 

Page  184,  1.  17.  Aristotle.  He  calls  Melissus  "crude"  {(popriKos), 
Phys.,  i.  3  ;  Melissus  and  Xenophanes  together  "  somewhat  clumsy" 
(fxiKphv  a-ypoiKorepoi),  Metaphys.^i  i.  5. 

Page  184,  1.  27.  "A  condition  of  undisturbed  bliss."  "  Has  any 
one  ever  reflected  on  what  kinds  of  states  of  consciousness  Melissus 
may  have  attributed  to  his  bare  Being  ?  For  he  did  attribute  conscious- 
ness to  it,  since  he  declares  it  exempt  from  pain  and  grief.  By  this  he 
evidently  aims  at  endowing  it  with  pure  undisturbed  bliss."  These 
words  were  written  by  the  author  of  this  work  in  January.  1880,  and  he 
was  soon  enabled  to  add  the  remark,  "  This  has  at  last  been  acknow- 
ledged by  Fr.  Kern  in  his  valuable  essay,  valuable  likewise  for  its 
appreciation  of  Parmenides :  '  Zur  Wiirdigung  des  Melissos  von 
Samos,'  in  the  Festschrift  des  Stettiner  Stadtgymn.  zur  Begriissung 
der  35.    Versanifnlnng  deutschcr  Philologen,  etc.,  Stettin,   1880."     If 


NOTES   AND    ADDITIONS.  555 

Melissus  was  satisfied  with  these  negative  designations,  and  forbore 
to  do  honour  to  his  bhssful  universal  Being  as  such,  considerations  of 
prudence  may  have  intervened.  The  man  who  occupied  a  prominent 
position  in  the  pubHc  hfe  of  his  native  country  was  more  strongly 
bound  than  other  philosophers  to  respect  the  religious  susceptibility  of 
his  fellow-citizens.  That  is  plainly  why  he  preferred  not  to  attribute 
directly  to  his  "All-One"  the  bliss  of  the  popular  divinities  {ixaKaptt 
Ofoi),  but  only  to  hint  at  it  indirectly. 

Page  i86,  1.  lo.  Aristotle:  Sophist.  Elencli.,  5,  167  B  13;  and 
Phys.,  i.  3,  186  A  10. 

Page  191,  1.  2)3-  Zenoof  Elea:  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch/5.  Laertius, 
i.e.  Apollodorus,  here  fixes  \\\sJIo7-uii  in  the  79th  Olympiad,  and  Plato 
(cf.  supra,  note  on  p.  166,  1.  31)  calls  him  25  years  younger  than 
Parmenides,  v/)\os&  Jloriiit  is  fixed  in  the  69th  Olympiad  :  both  these 
accounts  may  very  well  rest  on  truth.  For  according  to  what  we  have 
remarked  above  in  our  note  on  Melissus,  and  previously,  too,  anent 
the  procedure  of  Apollodorus,  there  is  no  reason  at  all  to  assume  that 
the  same,  or  even  approximately  the  same,  differences  of  age  must 
correspond  with  those  of  the_/?£>r«//— the  differences  at  the  zenith. 

We  shall  have  to  speak  later  on  of  Zeno's  critical  discussion  of  the 
doctrine  of  Empedocles  {t^'hyncris  'Efj.-ne5oK\ious  in  Suidas,  s.7'.  Zr)vwv). 
It  has  often  been  doubted,  although  without  any  reason,  if  Zeno,  like 
his  master  Parmenides,  also  propounded  doctrines  of  nature-philosophy. 
The  title  of  a  treatise  "On  Nature  "  (Suidas,  idid.)  is  in  favour  of  his 
having  done  so,  and  even  more  so  are  the  tenets  attributed  to  him  in 
Laert.  Diog..,  ix.  29. 

The  chief  sources  from  which  we  gather  our  knowledge  of  his  argu- 
ments are  :  Aristotle,  Phys.,  iv.  i  ;  iv.  3  ;  vi.  2  ;  and  especially  vi.  9  ; 
and  the  commentaries  on  those  passages  in  Simplicius. 

Page  192,1.  10.  Plato:  in  the  dialogue  Parmenides,  128  D.  He 
describes  the  astounding  impression  made  by  his  speeches  in  P/uedrus, 
261  D. 

Page  192,  1.  24.  Pierre  Bayle  :  in  his  Dictionnaire  historigue  et 
critique,  iv.  536,  edition  of  1730. 

Page  192,  1.  25.  "  A  grain  of  millet :  "  hinted  at  by  Aristotle,  P/iys., 
vii.  5,  amplified  by  Simplicius  in  his  note  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue 
between  Zeno  and  Protagoras. 

Page  196, 1.  14.  On  what  follows,  cf  Fricdrich  Ubcrwcg,  System  dcr 
Lojri/c,  409,  ed.  3. 

Page  196,  1.  26.  J.  S.  Mill,  Exavtination  of  Sir  IVi/liatii 
Hamilton'' s  Philosophy,  533,  ed.  3,  sees  in  this  confusion  of  infinite 
divisibility  and  infinite  magnitude  the  nucleus  of  the  apory.  This  was 
precisely  the  judgment  of  Aristotle  ;  cf.  Phys.,  vi.  2,  233  A  z\  ff. 

Page  201.  Interesting  side-lights  on  the  so-called  sophisms  of  the 
Eristics,  and,  among  them,  on  Zeno's  "Achilles  and  the  tortoise,"  are 
furnished  by  the  subtle  intellect  of  the   Chinese.     Cf.  11.  A.  Giles, 


556  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Chuang  Tzti,  453,  London,  1889  :  "  If  you  take  a  stick  a  foot  long  and 
every  day  cut  it  in  half,  you  will  never  come  to  the  end  of  it." 
Page  204, 1.  14.     Plato  :  in  Parmenides,  128  C. 

Book  II. — Chapter  IV. 

Page  208.  Anaxagoras  :  cf.  chiefly  Atiaxagorce  Clasontemz  Frag- 
nienta,  coll.  Ed.  Schaubach,  Leipsic,  1827  ;  or  W.  Schorn,  Anaxagorcc 
Clas.  ct  Diogenis  Apolloniatce  Fragmcnta,  Bonn,  1829.  The  almost 
exclusive  quarry  for  the  fragments  is  the  commentary  of  Simplicius  on 
the  Physics  of  Aristotle.  A  little  phrase  in  Simplicius  (on  Aristotle, 
De  Ccelo^  608,  26  Heiberg),  has  been  overlooked  by  the  collectors  of  the 
fragments  ;  another  brilliant  remark,  which  has  been  missed  by  the 
collectors,  is  in  Plutarch,  Moral.,  98  F  (^De  Fortuna,  c.  3).  On  the  cir- 
cumstances of  his  life,  see  Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  ch.  3.  ApoUodorus  places 
his  birth  in  the  70th  Olympiad  (500-497  B.C.),  his  death  in  the  first 
year  of  the  88th  (428  B.C.).  It  is  reported  by  Laert.  Diog.  as  an  un- 
authenticated  fact  (AeVfToi),  that  he  was  born  in  500  B.C.,  and  thus  reached 
the  age  of  seventy-two.  On  his  relations  with  Pericles,  cf.  Plato,  Phcedr., 
270  A,  and  Plutarch,  Life  of  Pericles,  especially  c.  32.  The  mental 
composure  with  which  he  bore  the  loss  of  his  only  son  was  admired 
by  all  antiquity.  On  the  date  of  the  publication  of  his  work,  cp.  Diels, 
Seneca  und  Ltican,  from  the  Berl.  Akademie-Abhaiidlungen,  1885, 
p.  8  n.  In  Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  1 1,  we  have  certainly  to  complete  the  reading 
thus  :  IttI  &PXOVTOS  Aver  [KTrpdrov]  =  467  B.C.  That  his  (p.  209,  1.  22) 
was  the  first  book  illustrated  with  diagrams  (except  geometrical  writ- 
ings destined  for  a  special  professional  public .'')  has  recently  been 
correctly  inferred  by  Kothe,  in  Fleckeisens  Jahrb''^cher,  1886,  pp.  769, 
ff.,  from  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Strain,  i.  364  Pott.,  and  Laert.  Diog., 
loc.  cit. 

Page  212,  1.  35.  My  explanation  of  Anaxagoras'  utterance  about 
the  colour  of  snow,  which  at  first  sight  seems  so  hazardous,  is  founded 
on  the  glaring  contrast  which  otherwise  would  exist  between  the  basis 
of  his  whole  theory  of  matter  (the  unshakable  belief  in  the  qualitative 
truth  of  sense-perceptions)  and  the  assertion  that  we  are  in  this  case 
deceived  by  sight.  My  exposition  also  tallies  as  exactly  as  possible 
with  the  text  of  Cicero's  statement,  which  earlier  interpreters  thoroughly 
misapprehended  :  "  sed  sibi  quia  sciret  aquam  nigram  esse,  unde  ilia 
concreta  esset,  attain  ipsam  esse  ne  videri  quidem''''  {Acad.  Qucest. 
iv.  31). 

Page  213,  §  2.  About  the  cosmogony  of  Anaxagoras,  cf.  the  instruc- 
tive discussion  by  W.  Dilthey,  Einleiiung  in  die  Geisteswissenschaft, 
i.  200  ff.  I  am  at  one  with  Zeller  (i.  1002  n.,  ed.  5),  however,  in  being 
unable  to  agree  with  him  in  assuming  that  Anaxagoras  imagined  the 
structure  of  the  world  to  be  shaped  like  a  cone.  He  may  probably  be 
credited  with  the  idea  that  the  celestial  globe,  formed  as  it  had  been 
by  rotation  (irepix^pTja-is),  would  increase  in  circumference  in  proportion 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  557 

to  the  ever  larger  size  of  the  masses  of  matter  that  become  involved 
in  the  rotatory  movement.  It  is  useful,  perhaps,  to  remind  the  reader 
that  Anaxagoras  at  any  rate  seems  to  know  nothing  of  a  material 
celestial  globe,  or  of  such  a  firmament  of  the  fixed  stars.  Even  where 
it  might  most  be  expected  {e.g.  Fragm.  8,  Schaub.)  there  is  no  hint 
of  such  an  image. 

Pages  215,  216.  The  constantly  renewed  attempts  to  prove  the 
purely  spiritual  nature  of  the  Nous  of  Anaxagoras  are  characterized 
partly  by  their  contradiction  with  the  unequivocal  assertions  of  the 
sage  of  Clazomenae  himself,  partly  by  the  subtle  artifices  to  which 
their  defenders  feel  compelled  to  resort.  Thus  the  words  of  Anaxa- 
goras, A.e7rTo'TaTov  Tracrcov  xpw«'''a)i',  are  interpreted  as  "the  most  saga- 
cious "  instead  of  "  the  finest  of  all  things  ;  "  or  the  Aristotelian  airKovv 
("  simple  ")  is  taken  as  something  other  than  a  reproduction  of  the  pre- 
dicate a/xive's  ("  unmixed ").  The  method  here  followed  consists 
essentially  in  setting  statements  of  Aristotle,  more  or  less  arbitrarily 
interpreted,  against  the  clear  text  of  the  Anaxagorean  utterances. 
Sound  arguments  against  the  entire  immateriality  of  the  Nous  are  to 
be  found  in  Natorp,  Philos.  Mo7iats]icfte,  xxvii.  477.  The  expression 
"thought-element"  (p.  215,  1.  29)  is  from  Windelband  in  Iwan 
Midler's  Handbiich  der  /class.  Altertiu)is'wisse7ischaft,  v.  i,  165. 

Page  216,  1.  34.  The  complaints  about  the  insufficient  use  of  the 
Nous  by  its  inventor  are  to  be  found  in  Plato,  Phcedo,  97,  c.ff.  and  in 
Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  3,  985  B  17. 

Page  220,  1.  3.  "  A  difficulty  which  has  still  to  be  realized  and 
explained  : "  cf.  Aristotle,  Dc  Ca'lo,  ii.  13.  It  was  mentioned,  as  1  now 
discover,  but  not,  in  my  opinion,  solved,  by  Piriegcr,  Die  Urbewcgung 
der  Atojiie,  etc.  (Gymasial-Programm,  Halle,  1884),  pp.  21/. 

That  Anaxagoras  attributed  a  flat  shape  to  the  earth  (1.  6)  is 
proved  by  the  evidence  collected  in  Schaubach,  pp.  174,  175. 
Simplicius  is  alone  in  alluding  to  a  tambourine-  or  cylinder-shape  by 
the  word  Tu^Tra^/oetSjjs  (on  Aristotle,  Dc  Cwlo,  ii.  13,  p.  520,  28  y/T, 
Heiberg).  He,  however,  weakens  his  own  testimony  by  mentioning 
Anaximenes  as  well  as  Anaxagoras,  for  it  is  quite  certain  that, 
with  respect  to  the  shape  of  the  earth,  Anaximenes  agreed,  not  with 
Anaximander,  but  with  Thales.  It  is  therefore  misleading,  to  say  tlie 
least,  when  Zeller,  Uberweg,  and  others  speak  of  a  "flat  cylinder." 

Pages  220-222.  On  the  astronomical  and  meteorological  doctrines 
of  the  philosopher,  cf.  Doxogr.  Gr.  137,  138. 

Page  221,  1.  5.  On  Anaxagoras'  explanation  of  the  clusters  of 
stars  in  the  Milky  Way,  cf.  Tannery,  Pour  lUlistoire  dc  la  science 
hellcne,  279.  (Jn  the  problem  itself,  cf.  amongst  others,  Wundt, 
Essays,  79^ 

Page  223,  1.  20.  Schleiermacher  set  the  fashion  of  denying  tlic 
term  Homcxiomerics  to  Anaxagoras,  and  of  regarding  it  as  an  innova- 
tion of  Aristotle's.     The  unequivocal  evidence  of  anlicjuity  against 


558  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

this  assumption  has  been  collected  by  Schaubach,  p.  89.  That  the 
conjecture  is  untenable  is  shown  as  clearly  as  daylight  from  the  fact 
that  Epicurus,  and  after  him  Lucretius,  who  had  no  reason  whatever 
for  using  the  Aristotelian  terminology,  employ  the  word.  Cf.  Munro's 
commentary  on  Lucretius,  i.  834 ;  and  the  present  writer,  in  the 
Zeitschrift fur  die  Ostreichischen  Gyntfiasien,  xviii.  212. 

Page  225,  1.  18.  Xenophon's  disdainful  judgment  is  from 
Memorab.,  iv.  7. 

Book  IL — Chapter  V. 

Page  227,  §  I.  Empedocles  :  cf.  H.  Stein,  Entpedoclis  Agrigentini 
Fragmaita,  Bonn,  1852;  Diels,  "  Studia  Empedoclea,"  in  Hermes, 
XV.  A  new  fragment  of  a  verse  and  a  half  is  given  by  Knatz,  in 
SchedcB philoL,  Bonn,  1891 ;  Doxogr.  Gr. passim.  He  is  further  treated 
by  Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  ch.  2.  There  is  an  excellent  investigation  of  the 
sources  by  J.  Bidez,  La  Biographie  d^Etnpedocle,  Ghent,  1894, 

The  remarks  on  Girgenti  here  and  in  the  following  pages  are 
based  on  the  author's  personal  impressions  of  travel ;  still,  cp.  too 
Renan's  essay,  "  Vingt  jours  en  Sicile,"  in  his  Melanges  de  voyages  et 
d''histoire,  102,  ff.  For  the  chronology,  we  have  at  our  disposal  in  this 
instance  a  series  of  verses  from  the  chronicle  of  ApoUodorus  in  Laert. 
Diog.,  loc.  cit.  The  vexed  statement  in  Aristotle,  Metaphys.,  i.  3,  that 
Anaxagoras  was  older  than  Empedocles  in  years,  but  younger  in 
achievements,  neither  contains  any  reference  to  the  dates  of  the 
publication  of  their  works,  nor  yet  any  judgment  as  to  their  value.  It 
merely  serves  to  account  for  the  inverted  chronological  order  which 
Aristotle  favoured  on  expository  grounds.  He  treated  Empedocles 
before  Anaxagoras,  because  the  four  elements  of  Empedocles  were 
far  more  akin  to  the  material  Monism  of  the  older  nature-philosophers 
than  were  the  infinitely  numerous  primary  substances  of  Anaxagoras. 

Cf.  the  little  sentence  just  before  :  'E^uTreSowrA^s  5e  ra  rirrapa  irphs  TOJS 
eloTifiivoiS  yrjv  irpoffridels  rerapTou. 

Page  229,  1.  10.  On  the  draining  of  Selinus,  and  "  On  the  Boring 
of  a  Mountain  in  Acragas  by  Empedocles,"  cf.  the  essay  with  that 
title  in  Xh^  feuilleton  of  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung,  Augsburg,  November 
15,  1 88 1.  Bidez,  loc.  cit.,  p.  34,  preceded  by  Diels,  has  made  it  very 
probable  that  the  story  of  a  woman  wakened  from  a  death-like  trance 
(1.  15)  is  taken  from  the  treatise  riepl  ttjs  iirvov  by  Heraclides  of 
Pontus,  and  based  on  a  legend  already  current  at  that  time. 

Page  230,  11.  20  ff.  Tannery,  op.  cit.,  319,  was  probably  the  first 
to  suggest  the  view  of  a  connection  between  Empedocles'  medical 
studies  and  his  anti-monistic  theory  of  matter. 

Page  231, 1.  33.  The  four  elements  are  met  with  in  the  popular 
physics,  not  only  of  the  Greeks,  but  likewise  of  the  Hindoos  ;  cf.  Kern, 
Buddhistniis,  German  edition  by  H.  Jacobi,  i.  438  ;  cf.  too  the 
Persian  theory   of   the    elements    in    the   Vendidad,   tra.nslated   by 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  559 

J.  Uarmesteter,  in  the  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  iv.  187.  The  follow- 
ing passage  in  Kopp's  Entwickhaig  der  CJiemic  in  der  ncucre?i  Zeit, 
p.  no,  shows  at  how  late  a  date  this  primeval  doctrine  disappeared  : 
"  If,  in  the  time  preceding  the  rise  of  Lavoisier's  system,  a  question 
were  asked  .  .  .  about  the  elements  of  bodies,  the  answer  was  that 
earth,  water,  air,  and  fire  were  still,  as  ever,  to  be  regarded  as  elements, 
or  at  any  rate  that  most  people  believed  in  these  elements." 

Page  233,  1.  10.  For  the  comparison  of  the  four  elements  with  the 
primary  colours,  cp.  Galen,  Coiiunentary  on  Hippocrates  "  De  Natura 
Hominis  "  (xv,  32,  Kiihn). 

Page  235,  1.  2.  The  dependence  of  Empedocles  on  Alcmajon  was 
proved  by  Diels,  Gorgias  und  Einpedokles,  p.  11. 

Page  238,  11.  II  Jf.  The  experiment  here  alluded  to  (Stein, 
vv.  294^,  presupposes  the  existence  of  spaces  which  are  at  least 
temporarily  empty.  Against  this  it  is  strange  that  both  Aristotle  {De 
Ccelo,  iv.  2)  and  Theophrastus  {De  Sensibiis,  in  Uoxogr.  Gr.,  503, 
9-12)  should  declare  that  Empedocles  denied  the  existence  of  empty 
space.  True,  Theophrastus  is  careful  to  add  that  Empedocles  herein 
was  inconsistent,  and  much  the  same  remark  is  hinted  by  Aristotle 
{De  Gcncrat.  ct  Corrupt.,  i.  8).  Here  we  are  led  to  conjecture  that  a 
misunderstanding  blocks  the  way.  The  verses  alleged  to  contain  the 
denial  of  empty  space  are  still  preserved  (Stein,  91  ff.),  but  they 
seem  susceptible  of  another  interpretation.  I  should  freely  reproduce 
their  sense  as  follows  :  "  Nowhere  can  be  said.  Here  the  All  is  >iot ; 
nowhere,  Here  is  so^ncthiiig  other  than  the  All."  In  my  opinion  the 
genitive  toO  iravrds  must  be  made  to  depend  on  Kfve6v  (cf.  Stein,  iii, 
Toinaiv  .  .  .  KfivuxTfTat).  If  KeveSv  were  used  here  absolutely,  in  the 
sense  of  "  empty  space,"  what  would  the  neighbouring  uudf  Trepio-o-Jf 
be  doing  beside  it  ?  Least  of  all  can  the  verse  be  quoted  to  confute 
the  assumption  of  permanently  empty,  or  even  of  temporarily 
emptied,  interstices. 

It  is  curious  that  Aristotle  (loc.  cit.  and  Physics,  iv.  6)  denies  the 
vacuum-conception  to  Anaxagoras  likewise,  remarking  that  his  experi- 
ment with  the  inflated  bag  (see  p.  213,  1.  32),  as  well  as  the  air-pressure 
experiment — which  must  have  been  that  of  Empedocles  mentioned 
above — do  not  prove  that  there  is  no  empty  space,  but  that  "  air  is 
something."  Here,  again,  wc  may  be  permitted  to  conjecture  that 
Aristotle  somewhat  misunderstood  the  object  of  those  old  inquirers. 
Anaxagoras  had  made  such  ample  use  of  the  Invisible,  that  he  cannot 
have  escaped  the  reproach  of  doing  business  with  Non-entities.  He 
then  proved  to  the  sceptics  that  there  are  invisible  bodies,  and  that 
where  there  seems  to  be  Nothing,  Something  in  truth  is  present.  An 
emptied  bag  seems  at  first  to  contain  nothing.  But  inflate  it — this  is 
precisely  the  experiment  of  Anaxagoras  alluded  to  by  Aristotle — bind 
up  its  opening,  tie  it  and  pull  it  fast,  and  the  resistance  which  it  offers 
to  all  attempts  at  compression  will  very  soon  teach  us  that  the  Invisible 


560  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

inside  it  is  a  material  Something.  We  take  the  liberty  of  believing 
that  Anaxagoras  intended  to  prove  exactly  what  he  actually  did  prove. 
As  the  theory  of  an  empty  space  did  not  originate  with  Leucippus,  so 
it  by  no  means  follows  from  what  has  been  said  that  Empedocles 
must  have  been  influenced  by  him.  This  supposition,  reiterated  of 
late,  seems  baseless  to  me,  not  merely  because  Aristotle  knew  nothing 
of  such  a  connection  (cf.  Dc  Generat.  ct  Corrupt.,  i.  8,  especially  324  B, 
2,2  ff.  and  325  B,  36^),  but  chiefly  because  the  doctrines  of  Empedocles 
at  many  points  can  very  readily  be  viewed  as  steps  preliminary  to 
Atomism,  whereas,  if  such  influence  had  really  been  exerted,  they 
would  be  far  more  difficult  to  understand  as  steps  backward  or 
downward  from  a  height  already  attained. 

Page  241,  §  5.  On  the  cosmology  of  Empedocles,  cf.  Karsten, 
Empedoclis Reliq7iicB,\\(iff.  ;  Gruppe,  Kosmische Systeme  der  Griechcn, 
98-100  ;  Tannery,  Pour  Phistoire,  etc.,  2,i(>ff.  ;  Doxogr.  Gr.,  passim. 

Page  242,  1.  12.  On  this  experiment  with  goblets,  and  the  infer- 
ences drawn  from  it,  cf.  Aristotle,/?^  Ccelo,  ii.  13.  The  report, meagre 
enough  in  all  truth,  was  utterly  misunderstood  by  Gruppe,  op.  cit.,  99. 

Page  243,  §  6.  "  Modes  for  the  beginnings  of  organic  being  : " 
Here  the  experts  are  frequently  at  variance,  and  full  certainty  seems 
hardly  attainable.  Against  Diimmler's  view  of  the  case  {Akademika, 
2\2,ff.),  which  I  have  adopted  in  the  text,  objections  have  been  raised 
by  Zeller,  i.  795,  796,  ed.  5,  which  I  cannot  regard  as  decisive. 
Zeller's  opinion  is  that  Empedocles  was  not  thinking  of  a  progressive 
transformation  of  organic  beings,  but  that  they  "simply  disappear 
from  the  scene,  and  for  those  which  supersede  them  a  fresh  creation 
from  the  beginning  is  required."  Against  this  view  it  is  to  be  urged 
that  of  the  four  modes  of  origin  described  by  ^Etius,  probably  accord- 
ing to  Theophrastus  (Doxogr.,  430,  431),  the  first  and  second  at  any 
rate  do  not  stand  in  this  relation.  For  the  "  grotesque  "  (eiSaiAoc^aj/ers) 
formations  of  the  second  "  genesis  "  are  evidently  supposed  to  have  been 
produced  by  the  concretion  of  the  non-combined  members  of  the  first 
(cf.  acTvixtpvecri  .  .  .  to7s  jxapiois  with  crv /xcpvofj. fuoov  rwv  fj.ipwv).  And  the 
grotesqueness  of  the  organisms  of  the  second  series  obviously  arises 
from  the  union  of  the  dissimilar  parti-formations  of  the  first  genesis 
(cf.  Einpcdodts  Fragmcnta,  244-261,  Stein).  Further,  the  fourth 
genesis  certainly  belongs  to  the  first  generated,  not  to  the  first 
generating,  beings.  Its  effect  is  :  fourthly,  animal  beings  arose  by 
sexual  generation,  not  animal  beings  arose  which  engendered  others 
sexually.  This  hardly  requires  demonstration.  I  do  not  insist  on  the 
point,  which  might,  perhaps,  be  called  captious,  that  the  numeration 
would  otherwise  be  incomplete  ;  for  then  those  beings  called  into 
existence  by  generation  would  form  a  fifth  genesis.  But  the 
cause  therein  assigned  {rdl^  l\  .  .  .  ifx-Koi-na-daris,  Doxogr.,  431)  can  only 
be  interpreted  as  referring  to  a  modification  in  this  instance  of  already 
existing  beings,  which  was  the  actual  condition  of  the  generation. 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  56 1 

Thus  the  relation  presumed  by  Zeller  does  not  exist  between  the  third 
and  the  fourth  geneses  either.  The  third  genesis  alone  is  exceptional 
in  its  relation  to  the  second,  but  then  it  falls  out  of  line  also  in  every 
other  respect  as  well.  Be  it  noted,  however,  the  text  is  corrupt.  The 
decisive  word  b\o(pvQiv  rests  on  conjecture.  This  conjecture,  it  is  true, 
finds  support  in  Empedocles,  v.  265 — but  what  a  support  it  is  !  To 
all  appearance  (even  if  we  do  not  set  store  by  the  word  itpSna),  there 
is  no  question  there  of  a  genesis  ensuing  on  other  modes  of  generation, 
nor  yet  of  a  mode  of  generation  of  animal  beings  in  general,  but  solely 
of  human  beings.  We  must  give  Zeller  right  in  maintaining  that 
Diimmler's  attempt  to  assign  this  anthropogony  to  another  world- 
period  than  the  rest  of  the  zoogonies  does  not  agree  with  the  excerpt 
in  ^tius.  But  as  this  part  of  the  excerpt  does  not  fit  in  with  the 
context  in  other  respects  either,  Diimmler's  hypothesis  is  still  not  yet 
condemned.  I  at  least  do  not  regard  the  conjecture  as  too  bold,  that 
yEtius  was  bearing  in  mind  that  versified  description  of  the  origin  of 
mankind  as  proceeding  directly  from  the  elements  ;  that  he  erroneously 
inserted  it  in  this  evolution-series,  thereby  expelling  what  we  might 
have  expected  to  find  there,  viz.  those  organisms  that  survived  after 
the  elimination  of  structures  unfit  for  life.  He  may  have  regarded  as 
a  member  of  a  consecutive  series  that  which  belonged  properly  by  its 
side  and  which  was  only  outwardly  combined  with  the  links  of  the 
self-inclusive  chain  in  an  enumeration  of  the  various  modes  of  origin. 
(By  the  way,  in   Doxogr.,   530  ;  27,  28,   should  we  not  read  €«:  tu>v 

dfjioaToixa>v  instead  of  (K  twv  d/j.oi(uy  ?) 

A  striking  parallel  to  the  doctrine  of  Empedocles  on  the  origin  of 
animals  is  to  be  found,  we  may  add,  in  Diderot.  Cf  John  Morley, 
Diderot  and  the  Eiuyclopcedists,  I.  in,  London,  1878. 

Page  244,  1.  17.  Among  the  "gleams  of  inspiration"  of  Empe- 
docles, we  may  further  count  the  fact  that  he  was  the  first  to  recog- 
nize— we  do  not  in  the  least  know  on  what  grounds — that  even  light 
requires  a  certain  time  for  its  propagation  (Aristotle,  De  Sens.,  c.  6, 
446  A  25). 

Page  245, 1.  24.  "  Hylozoism  I'u  excelsis.'''  Thus  Rohde,  too,  has 
lately  called  the  Empedoclcan  doctrine  "a  fully  developed  hylozoistic  " 
one  {Psyche,  ii.  188, cd.  2).  I  regard  as  utterly  groundless  the  view  main- 
tained by  such  eminent  men  as  Windelband,  for  instance,  that  the 
introduction  of  motive  forces  by  Empedocles  was  an  attempt  to  fulfil 
the^<;///(2of  Parmenides:  "as  pure  changeless  Ens\.h.Q  elements  cannot 
move  of  themselves  ;  they  can  only  be  nioved''^  (Iwan  Miiller's  Ilaiid- 
buch,  V.  I,  161).  Is  it  necessary  to  remind  the  reader  that  Parmcnides 
considered  motion  in  itself  as  impossible,  without  respect  to  wliether 
its  impulse  came  from  within  or  from  without  ?  As  far  as  I  can  see, 
the  Empcdoclean  assumjjtion  of  the  two  non-material  Powers  was  due 
solely  to  the  impossibility  of  tracing  back  to  one  tendency,  immanent 
in  matter  as  such,  and  tiiercfore  of  equable  operation,  the  tendencies 
VOL.    L  2  () 


562  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

dominant  in  the  two  alternative  world-periods,  and  thus  relieving  one 
another.  The  dualism  of  Empedocles  is  no  whit  more  fundamental 
than  that  of  Anaxagoras,  whose  Nous  was  merely  meant  to  assist  the 
solution  of  a  definite  mechanical  and  teleological  problem.  As  the 
gravity  inherent  to  matter  was  kept  by  Anaxagoras  as  an  independent 
source  of  motion  side  by  side  with  the  impulse  of  Nous,  so  Empe- 
docles retained  the  attraction  of  like  by  like  side  by  side  with  the  im- 
pulses derived  from  "  Friendship"  and  "  Discord."  Aristotle  himself 
{De  generat.  et  corrupt.,  ii.  6)  says  that  Friendship  and  Discord  are  the 
causes  of  merely  "  a  certain  "  motion  {hXKa.  nvbs  kivt](T€u>s  ravra  aina), 
thus  proving  that  Empedocles  did  not  regard  these  two  Powers  as  the 
only  motive  forces,  and  contradicting  what  might  be  read  into  the 
first  chapters  of  the  Metaphysics,  where  Aristotle  is  just  defending  a 
thesis. 

Page  246,  1.  4.  The  phrase  cited  from  Aristotle  will  be  found  in 
Dc  generat.  et  corrupt.,  ii.  6  (333  B  21).  Immediately  before  occur 
the  words  in  which  the  elements  are  pronounced  older  than  the  deity 
(vi^.  2(f)arpos),  TO  (^vcei  TrpSrepa  rod  deov. 

Page  246, 1.  35.  On  Empedocles'  "  physics  of  the  soul "  cf.  Doxogr. 
Gr.,  502,  besides  the  Fragments  (especially  329-332,  Stein). 

Page  247,  1.  35.  In  agreement  with  Dieterich,  Nekyia,  119,  I  com- 
pute the  30,000  cipai  of  the  soul's  wandering  at  10,000  years,  each  con- 
sisting of  three  seasons  or  wpai.  This  reckoning  is  compatible  with 
the  Platonic  data  on  the  subject.  Rohde,  however,  regards  the  Horai 
as  years,  and  can  see  in  the  number  30,000  merely  an  expression  for 
an  unhmited  quantity  of  years  {Psyche,  ii.  179,  n.  3,  and  187,  ed.  2).  But 
Rohde  and  also  Diimmler  {Akadcmika,  237)  point  to  the  parallelism 
which  will  be  found  noted  in  our  text  at  p.  252  (§  8  init.). 

Page  249,  1.  26.  Alfred  von  Kremer,  in  the  Wiener  Sitsiingsbe- 
richte  (Phil.-hist.  Classe  1889,  No.  iii.,  Studicn  zur  vergleichenden 
Culturgeschichtc),  p.  53. 

Page  250,  1.  4.     Pindar,  Fragm.  131,  Bergk. 

Page  250,  1.  23.  Parmenides  :  on  the  partial  perception  which  he 
ascribed  even  to  corpses,  cf.  Theophrastus,  De  Jtv^f^/zj- (Doxogr.,  499). 
Ibid. :  Kol  0A.C0S  5e  -rcav  rb  hv  exeiv  Tivh.  yvwfftv.  His  doctrine  of  the  fate 
of  souls  is  known  to  us  from  Simplicius,  Phys.,  p.  39,  19,  Diels. 

Parallel  to  the  k^mis  fi€\4cov  of  Parmenides  (1.  35)  is  the  npaais  Ka\ 
apixovLa  of  Philolaus  (cp.  Plato,  Phcedo,  c.  36,  compared  with  61  D). 

Page  251, 1.  35.  The  "  Questions  of  King  Mihnda  :  "  Sacred  Books 
of  the  East,  xxxv.  pp.  40^  and  Tiff. 

Page  253,  1.  2.  The  identification  of  that  spiritual  divinity  with 
Apollo  goes  back  to  Ammonius,  who  probably  read  in  their  original 
context  the  verses  (347-351,  Stein)  which  he  alone  communicates  in 
their  entirety. 

Page  253,  1.  26.  "The  occasional  attitude  of  hostility"  to  Xeno- 
phanes  :  cf.  vv.  i\6ff..  Stein. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  56; 


Book  II. — Chapter  VI. 

Page  255,  §  I.  For  the  remains  of  Hecatieus  (1.  22)  see  C.  Miiller's 
Fragmeiita  Historlcorinn  Gr<Tcont?n,  \.  \  ff.  On  his  deeds  of  state- 
craft (1.  20),  cf.  Herodotus,  v.  36  and  125  /.,  and  Diodorus,  x.  25,  2, 
Dindorf.  His  adventure  at  Thebes  (p.  257)  is  related  by  Herodotus,  ii. 
143.  His  rationalizing  historical  method  has  been  characterized  by 
Grote,  History  of  Greece,  i.  350  (new  edit.,  10  vols.,  1888),  and  has 
lately  been  illustrated  by  Diels  in  Hermes,  xxii.  \\.\  ff.  Similar  ideas 
to  those  in  our  text  will  be  found  in  Ed.  Meyer,  Philologiis,  New 
Series,  ii.  270. 

Page  258,  §  2.  Out  of  the  extensive  literature  on  Herodotus  I  am 
glad  to  give  special  mention  to  a  little  book,  as  unpretentious  as  it  is 
valuable,  Sittlich-religiose  LebcnsanscJiaiiung  des  Hcrodotos.,  by  Hoff- 
meister,  Essen  1832. 

Pages  259  to  272.  The  passages  from  Herodotus  treated  in  these 
pages,  besides  the  proem  (i.  iff.),  are  :  ii.  ii3#  (Helen)  ;  ii.  54  ff. 
(Dodona)  ;  vii.  129  (Poseidon)  ;  ii.  11^  (the  Nile  delta)  ;  vii.  189^ 
(Magi  and  storm);  W. passim  (identification  of  Greek  and  Egyptian 
divinities)  ;  ii.  53  (Homer  and  Hesiod)  ;  i.  131  (nature-worship  of  the 
Persians)  ;  ii.  45  (forgiveness  of  the  gods  and  heroes)  ;  ii.  120  (distrust 
of  the  epic  poets)  ;  ii.  3  (equal  ignorance  about  divine  things)  ;  iii.  loS 
("  Divine  Providence")  ;  vii.  10  and  i.  32  (jealousy  of  the  gods)  ;  vii. 
1^3  ff.  (Bulis  and  Sperthies)  ;  iv.  25  (Polar  nights)  ;  iii.  115  ("  Isles  of 
Tin  ";  ;  iv.  36  (the  rounded  earth)  ;  ii.  33  (Nile  and  Danube)  ;  iii.  107 
(winged  serpents)  ;  iii.  102  (gold-digging  ants)  ;  iii.  1 16  (Arimaspians); 
ii.  21  (Ocean  and  the  flood  of  the  Nile).  Compare  on  this  subject  the 
author's  "Herodoteisc  e  Studien,"  ii.  8  [526]  ff.,  in  the  Wiener 
Sitzungsberickte,  1883. 


BOOK    III. 

Page  273.  The  first  motto  is  taken  from  an  essay  by  Berthclot, 
"  La  Chimie  dans  I'antiquitc  et  au  moyen-age,"  in  the  l\c7'i{e  des  deux 
fiiondes,  September  15,  1893,  pp.  316,  317.  The  second  is  from  Boltz- 
mann's  academic  address,  "  Der  zweite  Hauptsatz  der  mcchanischen 
Wiirmetheorie,"  in  the  Almanack  der  Kaiserl.  Akadcmie  der  Wissen- 
scJiaflen,  Vienna,  1886,  p.  234.  The  third  I  once  found  in  a  para- 
phrase of  Philodemus  in  tlie  I  lercuiancan  papyri,  Wiener  Studien,  ii.  5. 

iJooK    III. — CllM'TKR    I. 

Pages  277,  1.  14.     The  c[uotation  is  from  Homer,  Iliad,  xi.  514. 

Page  277,  1.  27.  The  Indogermanic  "formula  of  blessing"  men- 
tioned here  is  due  to  Ad.  Kuhn,  Zeitschrift  fiir  vergleich.  Sprach- 
J'orsc/iung,x\\\.  49.     The  "  Song  of  a   Physician"  (1.  31)  is  Ir.mslated 


564  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

by  R.  T.  H.  Griffith,  The  Hymns  of  the  Rigvcda  (x.  97),  ii.  533,  2nd  edit., 
Benares,  1897.  On  this  and  on  the  oldest  Hindoo  medicine,  cf. 
Zimmer,  Altindischcs  Lcbcn,  375,  394,  396,  398,  399. 

Pages  277,  278.  The  examples  of  popular  medical  superstition  are 
taken  from  the  Pharmacologia  of  Dr.  Paris,  quoted  by  J.  S.  Mill, 
Logic,  vol.  ii.  bk.  v.  oh.  3,  §  8  ;  Erman,  Life  in  Ancient  Egypt,  trans, 
by  H.  M.  Tirard,  p.  232  ;  Fossel,  Volksmedicin  7cnd  inedic.  Aberglauboi 
in  Steicrma7'k,  quoted  in  the  Allgemeine  Zeitung,  Munich,  September 
23,  1891. 

Page  278,  1.  34.  On  the  surgery  of  savages  and  their  bold  opera- 
tions, cf.  Bartels,  Die  Medicin  der  Naturvblker,  Leipsic,  1893,  pp.  300 
and  305,  306;  also  Von  den  Steinen,  Unter  den  Natnrvolkern  Cen- 
tralbrasiliens,  p.  373. 

Pages  278,  279.  Here,  and  again  at  p.  283,  1.  28,  frequent  use  has 
been  made  of  Welcker's  essay,  "  Epoden  oder  das  Besprechen," 
Kleineschriften,  iii.  64_2?^  For  what  follows  (p.  279, 1.  12),  cf.  Odyssey, 
xix.  457/".  and  xviii.  383^  On  itinerant  Indian  physicians  (p.  279, 
1.  19)  in  the  earhest  times,  cf.  Kaegi,  Der  Rigveda,  p.  11 1. 

Page  279, 1.  33.  On  Democedes  and  his  adventures,  cf.  Herodotus, 
iii.  125  ff. 

Page  280,  1.  9.  "  The  Cypriot  physician  Onasilus  :  "  cf.  the  inscrip- 
tion at  Edalion,  now  in  CoUitz,  Griechische  Dialektitiscliriften,  i.  26^ 
In  what  concerns  the  date  of  the  inscription  I  follow  O.  Hoffinan, 
Die  griechisclien  Dialekte,  i.  41,  in  opposition  to  Larfeld  in  Bursian's 
fahrcsberichte,  Ixvi.  (1892)  36. 

Page  280,  1.  23.  "The  Physician's  Oath"'  is  in  E.  Littrd,  CEuvres 
(fHippocrate,  iv.  62%  ff.  The  prohibition  of  castration  (p.  281,1.  2)  I 
discover  in  the  words  oh  Tejxioo  Se  ou5e  ixt]v  KiQ^vTas,  which  can  only  be 
translated,  "  I  will  not  cut,  not  even  those  who  suffer  from  stony  indura- 
tion." Now,  as  a  general  prohibition  of  the  knife,  in  an  age  when 
"  cutting  and  burning  "  were  the  chief  features  of  medical  practice, 
would  be  an  absurdity,  no  choice  is  left  but  to  take  the  word  rifj-veiv 
in  a  special  sense,  and  to  understand  it  as  "castrate,"  as  it  was  used 
by  Hesiod,  Wo7-ks  and  Days,  786  and  790/,  by  Pseudo-Phocylides, 
V.  187,  Bergk,  and  by  Lucian,  De  Syria  Dea,  §  15  (cf.  also  To^ias  — 
iKToixias).  But  then  we  must  not  take  KiQiiiovTas  to  refer  to  stone  in  the 
bladder,  but  to  those  stone-like  hardenings  which  can  only  be  relieved 
by  castration  ;  indeed,  the  verb  in  question  is  employed  of  indurations 
of  the  most  diverse  kinds.  This  old  conjecture  of  mine  on  the  mean- 
ing of  the  passage  was  first  communicated  and  discussed  by  my  medi- 
cal colleague,  Theodor  Puschmann,  in  Virchow-Hirsch's  Jahresberichte 
iiber  die  Forischritte  der  gesamtcn  Medicin,  1883,  i.  326,  and  he  has 
frequently  returned  to  it. 

Page  281.  "Duties  and  status:"  the  passages  relating  to  the 
conduct  and  personal  appearance  of  physicians  in  general  are  :  Littre, 
iv.  182,  184,  188,  312,  638,  640  ;  ix.  14,  204,  210,  254,  258,  266,  268. 


NOTES  AND  ADDITIONS.  565 

Page  282, 1.  3,  Aristotle  speaks  of  Hippocrates  as  a  great  physician. 
Politics,  iv.  (vulgo  vii.)  4,   1326  A  24. 

Page  282,  1.  21.  Diels  brings  the  most  recent  portions  of  the 
Hippocratic  collection  somewhat  lower  down  than  I  do,  ascribing 
them  to  the  middle  of  the  fourth  century  B.C.  (This  was  verbally 
communicated  in  his  address  at  the  Philological  Congress  at  Cologne, 
Sept.  1895.) 

Page  284,  1.  14.  Epidaurus  :  the  description  is  based  on  the 
personal  impressions  of  the  author.  The  "  notes "  of  cases  at 
Epidaurus  mentioned  in  the  text  have  been  collected  by  Kavvadias, 
Les  Fouilles  (VEpidaiirc,  i.  pp.  23-34. 

Page  285,  1.  25.  "  A  recent  discovery  :  "  we  refer  to  the  London 
papyrus  :  Anonynii Londinoisis  ex  Aristotelis  iatricis  Mcnoniis  et  aliis 
mcdicis  eclogcc,  ed.  H.  Diels,  Berlin,  1893.  Cf.  the  discussion  of  its 
contents  by  Diels  in  Hermes,  xxviii.  ("  Uber  die  Excerpte  von  Menons 
latrika  ").  On  the  writings  in  the  Hippocratic  collection  which  belong 
to  the  Cnidian  school  (p.  286,  1.  5),  cf.  especially  Littre,  viii.  6  ff.,  and 
recently  Johannes  Ilbergin  Griech.  Sfudien.  .  .  H.  Lipsiiis  dargcbracht 
(Leipsic,  1894),  pp.  227^ 

Page  286,  §4.  The  books  "  On  Diet"  have  been  practically  alone 
among  the  Hippocratic  writings  in  attracting  the  attention  of  philo- 
sophers and  philologists.  Cf.  Bernays,  Gesavinielte  AbJiandltDtgen,  i. 
I  ff.  ;  Teichmiiller,  Ncnc  Studien  zur  Gcschichtc  dcr  Begriffe,  W.^ff.  ; 
Weygoldt,  Jahrbiicher  fur  Philologie,  1882,  pp.  161  ff.;  and  Zeller, 
Philosophic  dcr  Gricchcn,  i.  694,  ed.  5.  I  do  not  consider  Weygoldt  and 
Zeller  successful  in  their  attempts  to  prove  the  more  recent  date  of  this 
treatise.  The  influence  on  its  author  of  Heraclitus  and  Empedocles 
is  beyond  dispute  ;  indeed,  the  way  the  two  systems  are  employed 
points  to  a  time  when  both  were  still  full  of  life— the  doctrine  of 
Empedocles,  that  is  to  say,  still  young,  and  that  of  Heraclitus  not  yet 
antiquated.  Teichmiiller's  refutation  (pp.  48-50)  of  the  assumption 
that  the  writer  "  On  Diet  "  also  made  use  of  Archelaus  seems  to  me 
wholly  pertinent.  If  he  required  any  precursor  in  respect  to  material 
dualism,  a  much  more  likely  name  is  that  of  Parmenides,  who,  accord- 
ing to  Aristotle  {Mciaphys.,  \.  3),  looked  on  fire,  just  as  our  author  does, 
as  a  kind  of  moving  cause.  Anaxagoras  likewise  appears  to  have  been 
not  unknown  to  our  author,  though  by  no  means  to  have  exercised  any 
permanent  influence  over  him.  In  the  very  chapters  whose  contents 
Weygoldt  (p.  174)  traces  to  Anaxagoras  and  Archelaus,  there  is  a 
sentence  which    straightly    contradicts    the   fundamental    theory   of 

Anaxagoras  :   ore  yap  odiron  Kara  Twiirh   larafxtva,  ctAA'  aU\  aWowv/xfva  inl 

ya.  Kal  (irl  t6.  (vi.  374,  Littr.).  This  is  directly  preceded  by  a  sentence 
which  admittedly  reminds  one  of  an  Anaxagorean  fragment  (No.  3  in 
Schaubach).  It  stands  there  like  a  notice-board  to  warn  us  to  regard 
such  similarities  as  anything  rather  than  decisive  proofs.  If  tiie  author 
really  had  this  fragment  before  his  eyes,  he  only  borrowed  its  vcrljal 


566  NOTES   AND  ADDITIONS. 

form,  and  not  its  thought,  the  term  o-Trep/iaTo,  for  instance,  being  used  in 
an  entirely  different  sense  in  each.  I  cannot  perceive  the  remini- 
scences of  Democritus  which  Zeller  finds.  His  argument  founded  on 
the  seven  vowels  is  irrelevant,  for  the  distinctive  signs  for  H  and  n, 
though  indeed  not  officially  introduced  into  Athens  till  403  B.C.,  were 
yet  known  to  non-official  usage  long  before,  not  merely  in  Ionia,  where 
the  author  almost  certainly  wrote,  but  also  in  Athens  itself,  where  Zeller 
thinks  that  he  resided. 

The  passages  here  adduced  from  the  treatise  "  On  Diet "  are  to  be 
found  in  vi.  468,  470  (cf.  also  606),  and  472. 

Page  288,  1.  6.  The  doctrine  of  organic  equilibrium  is  most  dis- 
tinctly formulated  in  Littre,  vi.  606,  and  at  the  end  of  Book  III. 
p.  636. 

Page  288,  11.  14,  17.  My  statements  here  about  the  Cnidians  Eury- 
phon  and  Herodicus  are  drawn  from  the  above-mentioned  Papyrus 
Londinensis  (p.  7),  where  all  the  fragments  of  Euryphon  are  authenti- 
cated in  the  index. 

Page  289.  The  quotations  refer  to  Book  i.  "  On  Diet,"  vi.  484,  474, 
476. 

Page  289,  1.  39.  On  the  experiment  here  mentioned,  cf  Littre's 
remark,  vi.  527. 

Page  290,  1.  II.  "An  exact  knowledge"  is  attributed  to  the  inter- 
preters of  dreams,  vi.  642  {^daXv,  0I  Kptvovai  wepl  twv  toiovtwv  &Kpi^rj  Tex^V^ 
exoyres). 

Page  290, 1.  22.  The  little  treatise  Trepl  aapKwv  ("  On  Flesh,"  or  "  On 
the  Muscles  ")  is  in  Littre,  vol.  vii.  There  is  certainly  no  need  to  follow 
Littre  in  calling  it  post-Aristotelian  on  the  ground  that  the  author  is 
aware  that  two  chief  veins  originate  in  the  heart.  The  time  at  which 
such  obvious  facts  of  anatomy  became  known  could  not  possibly  be 
stated  with  certainty  even  in  antiquity.  The  date  of  the  composition 
of  this  little  book  is  most  clearly  illuminated  by  its  eclectic  features 
noticed  on  p.  293. 

Page  293,  1.  5.     "Aristotle's  words  : "  Politics,  i.  2  init. 

Page  294,  1.  12.  For  the  treatise  "On  the  Number  Seven,"  see 
Littre,  viii.  634^^  (a  better  version  in  ix.'433^),  and  cf  Ilberg,  op.  ciL, 
and  Harder,  "  Zur  pseud-hippokratischen  Schriff,  Trepl  e/SSo/uaScor,"  Riieiii- 
isclies  Museum,  New  Series,  xlviii.  \llff. 

Page  295,  1.  13.  The  remark  at  the  close  of  the  paragraph  on  the 
part  played  by  the  number  seven  in  the  alchemy  of  the  Arabs  is  based 
on  an  article  by  Berthelot  in  the  Revue  des  deux  viondes,  i  Oct.  1893. 

P-  557- 
Page  297,  1.  8.     The  treatise  "  On  Old  Medicine'' forms  the  con- 
clusion of  Littrd's  first  volume.     Our  citations  from  it  (pp.  297  to  299) 
will  be  found  in  Littre,  i.  570-606. 

Pao"e  300,  1.  9.  The  important  20th  chapter  of  the  treatise  "  On 
Old  Medicine  "  here  treated  is  in  Littre,  i.  620-624. 


XOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  567 

Page  300,1.  31.  "The  almost  verbal  resemblance:"  i.e.  of  the 
words  in  i.  620  to  those  in  vi.  468. 

Page  305, 1.  21.     See  Littrd,  i.  572. 

Page  307,  11.  16,  17.  Herodotus,  ii.  33  ;  Euripides,  Fragm.  574, 
Nauck,  edit.  2  ;  Epicurus,  apud  Laert.  Diog.,  x.  32. 

Page  309,  1.  16.  The  quotation  is  from  Bunge's  Lchrbuch  der 
physiol.  und pathol.  Chcniic,  p.  86,  edit.  2. 

Page  310,  1.  28.  For  the  treatise  "  On  the  Nature  of  Women,"  see 
Littre,  vii.  312.  The  introduction  should  be  read,  and  likewise  ii.  iio- 
1 1 2,  the  introduction  to  the  Prognosticoii. 

Page  311,  1.  3.  For  the  treatise  "  On  Water,  Air,  and  Sites,"  see 
Littre,  ii.  \2ff.  For  that  "  On  the  Sacred  Disease  "  (1.  23),  see  Littrd, 
vi.  1^2  ff.  The  maxims  (11.  '})Off.)  on  diseases  as  at  once  human  and 
divine,  Littrd,  vi.  394  and  364  and  ii.  76. 

Page  312.  For  the  polemical  expressions  quoted,  see  Littre,  vi.  354 
to  362. 

Pages  314,  315.  The  quotations  made  here  from  Hippocratic 
physicians  will  be  found  in  Littre's  edition,  ii.  302,  328  ;  iv.  212,  252,254. 
Littre's  opinion  of  the  treatise  "  On  the  Joints"  is  taken  from  iv.  75. 
I  call  the  author  of  that  work  a  "  pioneer  of  comparative  anatomy  " 
on  account  of  his  expressions  in  Littr^,  iv.  192  and  198. 

Book  II L — Chapter  II. 

Page  316,1.  10.  "A  romance  in  letters:"  CEuvres  d^Hippocraie., 
ix.  yzo  ff.,  especially  350  and  354  L.  On  Hippocrates'  visits  to  the 
sick  in  Abdera,  see  the  undoubtedly  genuine  third  book  of  the 
Epidemics.,  iii.  122,  124,  128. 

Page  317.  On  Leucippus,  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  6.  It  seems  most 
reasonable  to  consider  Miletus  as  his  birthplace  (1.  8),  because  in  the 
two  other  cases  of  Elea  and  Abdera  his  relations  with  Zeno  and 
Democritus  respectively  might  be  regarded  as  probable  sources  of 
error.  The  dispute  as  to  his  historical  reality  (1.  19)  has  most  recently 
been  carried  on  between  Rohde  ( Vet-handhi7ige7i  der  34  Philologen- 
Versa7n?nliiiig,  6^  ff..,  and  Fleckeisen's  Jahrb'iuher,  1881,  pp.  741^), 
Natorp  {Rhein.  Mttseiim,  xli.  349  ff.),  and  Diels  {VerhandluHgcn 
der  35  Philol.  Vcrsvilg.,  96  ff.  ;  cf.  also  Rheitiisckes  Miiscuiii, 
xlii.  I  ff.).  The  authority  of  Aristotle  and  Thcophrastus  is  decisive 
against  the  doubts  of  Epicurus  (cipud  Laert.  Diog.,  x.  13).  Though  I 
agree  unreservedly  with  Diels  in  this  view,  yet  I  cannot  share  his 
opinion  that  Theophrastus  regarded  Leucippus  as  a  disciple  of 
Parmenides.  For  the  words  KOiv(cvr\cas  X\apix(vlhri  rfjy  tptKu<Tu(pias 
(Doxogr.,  483,  12)  need  not,  ?ne  jiidice,  express  this  ;  just  as  little  docs 
the  verbally  identical  utterance  on  the  relation  of  Anaxagoras  to  the 
doctrine  of  Anaximcnes — Koti/wv-fiaas  rfjs'Ai'a^i/j.fi'uvs  (piKuaocpias  (Doxogr., 
478,  18  Jf.) — oblige  us  to  credit  Theophrastus  with  the  consequent 


568  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

anachronism.  Again,  it  was  no  other  than  Theophrastus  who  attri- 
buted {apudhzext.  Diog.,  ix.  46)  "The  Great  Order  of  the  Universe" 
(1.  30)  to  Leucippus.  The  only  extant  fragment,  quoted  in  the  text,  is 
from  the  treatise  "  On  the  Mind"  (^tius,  in  Doxogr.,  321  B  10). 

Page  318.  On  Democritus,  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  7.  As  to  the  date 
of  his  birth,  which  on  autobiographical  evidence  is  placed  in  the  80th 
Olympiad  (  =  460-457  B.C.,  but  probably  the  first  year  of  the  Olympiad 
is  meant),  cf.  Apollodorus,  api/d  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  41.  The  fragments 
are  (very  imperfectly)  collected  in  Mullach,  Democriti  Abderitce 
operum  fragmenta,  Berlin,  1843.  The  two  fragments  quoted  (11.  4  and 
30)  occur  in  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Stroviat.,  i.  357  (Potter),  and 
Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  36,  The  Platonic  phrase  in  1.  26  is  from  Republic, 
ii.  368  A. 

Page  319,  11.  4,  ir.  The  two  quotations  from  Aristotle  are  from 
De  Generat.  et  Corrupt.^  i.  2,  315  A  34/.  and  316  A  dff.  Cf.  also  the 
significant  passages,  ibid.,  i.  8,  324  B  35^  and  325  A  23^ 

Page  320,  1.  3.     Mullach,  p.  204. 

Page  321,  1.  21.  Galilei:  the  quotation  from  his  treatise,  "II 
Saggiatore"   will   be   found   in    the    Florentine   edition   of  1844,   iv. 

333/ 

Page  323,  1.  2.  The  ensuing  account  is  based  on  Aristotle; 
Metapliys.,  i.  \fin.  Diels  not  unjustly  conjectures  (in  a  courteous  com- 
munication to  me  on  the  subject)  that  the  exemplification  by  N  and 
Z  rests  on  an  erroneous  tradition,  and  that  those  two  letters  should  be 
replaced  by  H  and  ffi . 

Page  328,  1.  15.  The  quotation  is  from  Fechner's  book,  Uber  die 
physikalische  u.  philosopliiscJic  Aiomc?ilehre,  ed.  2.  The  whole  dis- 
cussion (pp.  79-81)  should  be  read  ;  it  is  notable  equally  by  its  depth 
of  thought  as  by  its  brilliance  of  expression. 

Page  328,  1.  28.  John  Stuart  Mill,  Logic,  vol.  i.  bk.  iii.  ch.  6,  §  i. 
For  what  follows,  cf.  l^oth^ir  M&ytr,  Die  modcrften  Theorien  der  Chemie, 
ed.  A„  passim,  eg.  253,  273,  183. 

Page  329,  1.  25.  Cournot,  Traite  de  renchahievient  des  idees 
fondaDicntales  dans  les  sciences  et  dans  VJiistoire,  i.  245,  Descartes 
(1.  35)  writes  to  Mersenne :  "  J'admire  ceux  qui  disent  que  ce  que  j'ai 
ecrit  ne  sont  que  centones  Democriti,"  etc.,  CEuvres,  viii.  328,  ed. 
Cousin.  Here  the  great  Robert  Boyle  (i 627-1 691)  ought  likewise  to 
be  remembered,  who  said  that  "  possibly  there  was  at  the  bottom  of 
all  bodies  one  and  the  same  primeval  matter,  extended,  divisible,  and 
impenetrable,  and  that  the  differences  we  discern  in  them  were  only 
the  consequence  of  the  unequal  size,  shape,  rest,  or  movement,  and  of 
the  respective  position  of  the  atoms"  (Kopp,  Geschichte  der  Chemie, 
ii.  308). 

Page  331,  11.  4,  5.  What  is  here  said  about  muscarine  and  neurine 
I  have  taken  from  Bunge,  Lehrbtcch  der  physiol.  11.  patholog.  Chemie, 
80,  ed.  2. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  569 

Page  332,  1.  13.  For  Democritus'  explanation  of  specific  gravity, 
cf.  Mullacli,  p.  215.  The  witness  is  Theophrastus,  De  Seusi'his,  to 
whom  we  are  also  indebted  for  the  rest  of  our  information  on  Demo- 
critus' theory  of  the  senses  (Doxogr.  Gr.,  516^). 

Page  333,  1.  33.  The  reference  is  to  Versuch  Yiber  die  gercizte 
Nerven-  ttnd  Muskclfaser  (Berlin,  1797),  i.  429.  Humboldt,  however, 
does  not  express  these  ideas  as  his  own.  The  most  eminent  modern 
exponent  of  this  theory  is  probably  Nic.  Lemery,  from  whose  Conrs 
de  Chyviie  (1675)  ^opp,  in  his  Ceschidite  dcr  Chcmie,  iii.  84,  quotes 
the  following  passage  :  " .  .  .  je  ne  crois  pas  qu'on  me  conteste 
que  I'acide  n'ait  des  pointes  .  .  .  ;  il  ne  faut  que  le  gouter  pour 
tomber  dans  ce  sentiment,  car  il  fait  des  picottements  sur  la 
langue,"  etc. 

Page  335,  1.  3.  Descartes  and  Huyghens  :  cf.  Lasswitz,  GescJiicJiie 
der  Atomistik,  ii.  91  ;  and  Huyghens,  Discours  de  la  cause  de  la 
pesafiteur,  in  the  appendix  to  the  Traild  de  la  linniere^  p.  102,  Leipsic 
edition  :  "  des  corps  faits  d'un  amas  de  petites  parties  accrochces 
ensemble."  But  similar  ideas  are  also  to  be  found  in  Lemery  (1645- 
17 1 5)  according  to  Kopp,  op.  cit,  ii.  308.  Descartes,  according  to 
Huyghens'  terse  formulation  of  his  point  of  view  {op.  ciL,  93),  refers 
everything  back  to  principles,  "  tels  que  sont  ceux  qui  dependent  des 
corps  considdrez  sans  qualitez  et  de  leurs  mouvements."  For  what 
follows  (1.  10)  cf.  L.  Meyer,  op.  cit.,  223:  "The  term  'saturation'  is 
merely  a  word  in  the  room  of  an  idea,  in  the  room  of  a  clear  con- 
ception." Cf.,  too,  idid.,  p.  387.  Pascal's  dictum  (1.  18)  will  be 
found  in  his  Pensies,  ii.  17  (ii.  249  of  the  Paris  edition,  1823)  :  "II 
faut  dire  en  gros  :  cela  sc  fait  par  figure  et  mouvement,  car  cela  est 
vrai.  Mais  de  dire  quels,  et  composer  la  machine,  cela  est  ridicule  ; 
car  cela  est  inutile  et  incertain  et  pdnible." 

Pages  335, 336.  The  chief  evidence  for  the  Democritean  cosmogony 
will  be  found  in  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  31  ;  Hippolytus,  i.  10  ;  Democritus, 
Fragm.  2  {Phys.),  p.  207,  and  Fragm.  6,  p.  208,  MuUach  ;  cf.  Plato, 
Tim.,  52  E.  The  whole  subject  has  recently  been  admirably  treated 
by  Brieger,  Die  Urbcivcguui^  der  Atoine  imd  die  Weltentsfehioii^  bei 
Lcukipp  und  Z>^;;w>('r// ((iymnasial-Programm,  Halle,  1884),  and  by 
Hugo  Carl  Liepmann,  Die  Medianik  der  leKcipp-democriVschen  Atome 
(The  Doctorate  Dissertation,  Berlin,  1885). 

Page  337,  1.  38.  "A  passage  from  Aristotle  :"  De  Ca-lo,  ii.  13, 
where  the  doctrine  of  the  "vortex"  is  attributed  to  "all,"  i.e. 
as  the  context  shows,  to  all  the  older  nature-philosophers  and 
originators  of  cosmogonies  (295  A  977^).  Teichmiiller,  Sludien  zur 
Gcschichte  der  Begriffe,  p.  83,  Berlin,  1874,  first  noted  and  de- 
monstrated that  Anaximander  is  almost  certainly  included  amongst 
these. 

Page  339,  1.  27.  The  statements  in  the  text  on  the  actual  effect  of 
whirlwinds,  and  especially  of  the  "  Etesiai,"  or  summer  north  winds 


570  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

in  Greece,  have  been  approved  by  my  colleague,  Professor  Hann, 
and  are  partly  based  on  his  courteous  and  instructive  communica- 
tions. 

Page  340,  1.  5.  Aristotle's  remarks  on  this  subject  are  to  be  found 
in  De  Ccelo,  iii.  2  (300  B  8),  and  Metaphys.,  i.  4  (985  B  20). 

Page  343,  1.  6.  "  Riddles  of  the  universe  :  "  cf.  Uber  die  Groizen 
des  Natiirerkennens.  Die  sieben  Weltrdtsel.  Two  discourses  by  Emil 
du  Bois-Reymond,  ed.  3,  Leipsic,  1891,  p.  83. 

Page  344,  11.  13-16.  A  number  of  Bacon's  utterances  on  this 
subject  are  collected  in  Grote's  Plato,  i.  92/. 

Cf.  further  L.  Stein,  Leibniz  zind  Spinoza,  66  f. 

Tyndall's  phrase  is  taken  from  his  Fragments  of  Science,  5th  ed., 

1876,  p.  355- 
Page  345,  1.  5.     Theophrastus  :  Doxogr.,  483,  \iff. 
Page  348, 1.  3.     Cf.  the  reference  to  Parmenides  on  p.  177. 
Page  349,  1.  27.     Galilei :  cp.  op.  cit.,  p.  336 :  "  Ma  che  ne'  corpi 
esterni,  per  eccitare  in  noi  i  sapori,  gli  odori  e  i  suoni,  si  richiegga 
altro  che  grandezze,  figure,  moltitudini  e  movimenti  tardi  o  veloci,  io 
non  lo  credo."     Similarly,  Huyghens,  op.  cit.,  96:  "  En  ne  supposant 
dans  la  nature  que  des  corps  qui  soient  faits  d'une  mesme  matiere, 
da?is  lesquels  on  fie  considere  aucune  qicalite  ni  aucune  inclination  k 
s'approcher  les  uns  des  autres,  niais  seidement  des  differentes grandeurs, 

figures  et  mouvements "  A  clear  allusion,  quoted  by  Lasswitz,  op. 

cit.,  ii.  49,  shows  us  that  Galilei  was  well  acquainted  with  the  doctrines 
of  Democritus,  and  Lowenheim,  Der  Einjitiss  Deinokrits  auf  Galilei 
{Archiv,  vii.  2^,0  ff.),  has  recently  proved  that  Galilei  applied  himself 
closely  to  the  theories  of  Democritus. 

As  to  Huyghens,  cf.  the  expression  of  his  astonishment  {op.  cit., 
93)  that  not  only  the  other  philosophers  but  even  Democritus 
omitted  to  explain  gravity :  "  On  peut  le  pardonner  k  ceux  qui  se 
contentoient  de  pareilles  solutions  en  bien  de  rencontres  ;  mais  non 
pas  si  bien  k  Democrite  et  k  ceux  de  sa  Secte,  qui  aiant  entrepris 
de  rendre  raison  de  tout  par  des  Atomes  en  ont  excepts  la  seule 
Pesanteur." 

Pages  350,  351.  The  evidence  for  the  existence  of  the  vacuum 
is  given  in  Aristotle,  Physics,  iv.  6  (213  B  $ff.). 

Page  351, 1.  36.  "  From  Leucippus  downwards  :"  cp.  Theophrastus 
(Doxogr.   Gr.,  483,    17  /.).     The  sentence,   icaX  tUv  iv  avroh  (rxTj^aTaii/ 

iiTfipov  rh  ir\7Jdos  Sia  rh  /J-rjSfu  fxaWoi/  toiovtov  -J)  roiovroi'  eluai,  I    regard   as 

parenthetical,  and  I  supply  in  thought  rh  a-xv/j-a  auruv  as  the  subject  to 
TOiovTov.  It  has  become  customary  to  identify  this  utterance  of 
Leucippus  with  the  Democritean  statement  on  the  secondary  qualities, 
ov  ixaWou  T0I0V  ^  roLov  (in  Plutarch,  Adv.  Colot.,  4,  i,  and  Sextus  Emp., 
Pyrrh.  Hyp.,  i.  213  =  48,  13^,  Bekker).  Yet,  pardonable  though  this 
confusion  may  be,  the  context  in  which  the  two  sentences  appear 
cannot   leave   us  in  any  doubt  as  to  the  difference  between  them. 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  S7^ 

There  would  be  no  end  to  the  meanings  we  should  have  to  read  into 
Theophrastus'  account  in  order  to  make  it  even  half-comprehensible 
on  that  supposition.  How  can  that  phrase  of  Democritus,  which,  as 
Zeller,  too,  is  ready  to  admit  (i.  920,  n.  2,  ed.  5),  relates  "merely  to 
the  secondary  sensible  qualities,"  help  to  prove  the  infinite  number  of 
the  shapes  of  the  atoms  ?  The  number  of  subjective  variations,  of 
which  the  typical  example,  also  quoted  by  Sextus  {ibid.),  is  the  honey 
that  tastes  bitter  to  a  jaundiced  man,  may  perhaps  amount  to  three, 
four,  or  even  ten  ;  but,  even  if  there  were  a  hundred  or  a  thousand 
such  variations,  this  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  infinite 
number  of  the  shapes  of  the  atoms.  And,  what  is  yet  more  significant, 
the  existence  of  this  infinite  number  is  one  thing  :  their  combination 
in  each  single  object  of  sense  is  a  different  thing  altogether.  And 
how  intolerably  violent  it  would  be  to  have  to  think  forward  to 
combination  from  existence,  which  is  solely  the  subject  in  Theo- 
phrastus, and  which,  according  to  the  whole  context,  can  solely  be 
his  subject!  Above  all,  Theophrastus  himself  (Doxogr.,  518,  20/.) 
speaks  merely  of  the  combination  of  7naiiy  shapes  of  atoms,  and  by 
no  means  of  infinitely  many,  in  a  single  sensible  object.  Here, 
moreover,  a  special  case  is  in  question,  and  not  a  general  rule.  (The 
passage,  by  the  way,  stands  in  need  of  critical  aid,  and  may  have 

originally  read  thus  :  oAA.'  eV  kKaarcp  \\u(f]  noWa  duai.  {koI  rpax^a]  Kal  rhv 
avTov  [xwAbj/  /ierjexe'"  Aeiou  Koi  rpax^os,  K.r.e.) 

Page  354,  11.  18-21.  The  quotations  are  from  Ernst  Mach,  Dir 
Principie7ider  Mechanik,  etc.  (Internationale  wissenschaftliche  Biblio- 
thek),  463/ 

Page  355,  1.  19.  On  the  theological  doctrines  of  Democritus,  cf- 
chiefly  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv.  Math.,  ix.  i,  p.  394,  28 _^,  and  396,  ^ff., 
Bekker  ;  also  Tertullian,  Ad  Naiioncs,  ii.  2  (connected  by  Zeller — 
justly,  of  course — with  Eustathius  on  Odyssey,  xii.  63).  A  notable 
feature  is  his  rationalistic  explanation  of  the  practice  of  divination 
from  entrails  (Cicero,  De  Diviiiatio)ic,  ii.  13,  30),  which  has  been 
recently  declared  to  be  the  one  correct  explanation  by  Ihering, 
Vorgeschichte  der  Indoeiiropdcr,  448.  Though  certainly  far  from 
being  true,  yet  this  elucidatory  attempt  is  precisely  characteristic  of 
Democritus.  Elsewhere,  too,  he  devotes  himself  to  finding  a  basis  of 
reality  in  religious  customs  and  beliefs  ;  he  considered  divine  appari- 
tions and  significant  visions  of  sleep  as  alike  something  more  than 
fictions,  just  as  he  discerned  in  the  gods  of  popular  belief  indications 
of  natural  factors  and  even  of  moral  forces,  disfigured,  indeed,  and 
misinterpreted  by  the  cajjrice  of  poets  (cf.  Clement  of  Alexandria, 
Trotrcpt.,c\\.  vi.  p.  59,  Potter  ;  cf,  too,  the  same  author's  Slroinat., 
v.  14,  709,  Potter).  To  restore  the  corrupt  words  consult  also  Eusebiiis, 
Prcpp.  Evani^.,  xiii.  13,  §  27,  iii.  322,  Caisford ;  Laert.  Diog.,  ix. 
46.  Diels  discusses  "  Dcmokrits  Damoncnglauben"  m  AnliiT,  \\\. 
154-157. 


572  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Page  356,  1.  17.  Theophrastus  states  and  criticizes  Democritus' 
theory  of  cognition  in  Doxogr.,  5 16 ff.  On  the  soul-atoms  of  Leucippus 
and  Democritus,  and  the  part  played  by  respiration,  cf.  Aristotle,  Dc 
Anima,  i.  2,  403  '&,  31  ff. 

Page  356,  1.  36.  Parmenides  and  Empedocles  :  cf.  Doxogr.,  390, 
19^  It  is  important  to  draw  attention  to  the  continuance  of  the 
doctrine  of  universal  animation  chiefly  because  most  writers  assume 
far  too  early  a  date  for  the  disappearance  of  the  hylozoistic  mode  of 
thought,  fixing  it  generally  as  early  as  Anaxagoras  and  Empedocles. 

Pages  358,  359.  These  "  sighs  "  are  registered  by  Sext.  Emp., 
Adv.  Math.,v\\.  135^,  p.  220/,  Bekker  ;  cf,  too,  Laert.  Diog.  ix.  72. 

Page  359,  1.  22.     Cf  above,  the  note  on  p.  290,  1.  11. 

Page  361,  1.  12.  The  maxims  about  genuine  and  obscure  know- 
ledge are  also  enumerated  by  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv.  Math.,  vii.  138/, 
p.  121,  Bekker. 

Page  363,  1.  15.  Aristotle's  critical  remarks  are  contained  in 
Phys.,  viii.  252  A,  B.  With  this  cf  some  remarks  of  Theophrastus 
on  Plato,  which  for  once  sound  wholly  un-Aristotelian,  and  which 
Proclus  quotes  in  his  commentary  on  the  Timceiis,  p.  176  of  the  Basle 
edition  (also  in  Doxogr.,  485,  I'^ff-). 

Page  364, 1.  6.  Aristotle's  accusation  will  be  found  in  Metaphys.,  \. 
A„fin.  For  what  follows,  cf.  Diihring,  Kritisclic  Gcschichtc  dcr  allge- 
vieincn  Prlncipicn  dcr  Mcchanik,  109-112.  For  "the  reproach  of 
Aristotle"  (1.  27),  cp.  Phys..,  ii.  4,  196  A,  i\  ff.  ;  and  Dc  genera/. 
afiimaL,  v.  789,  B  2. 

Page  366,  1.  20.  "  In  hstening  to  Democritus,"  etc. :  cp.,  chiefly, 
Hippolytus,  i.  13,  which  Lowenheim  {Arclnv,  vii.  246)  has  turned  to 
good  use  with  the  remark  that  Democritus  had  "  already  deposed  in 
principle  the  geocentric  point  of  view." 

Page  367,  1.  27.  Metrodorus  of  Chios  :  apud  Stobceum,  Eclogce,  i. 
496  (i.  p.  199,  i.,  Wachsmuth). 

Pages  367,  368.  On  the  ethical  fragments  of  Democritus,  cf 
Lortzing's  eponymous  Berliner  Gymfiasial-Prograi/nn,  1873  J  Hirzel, 
Dcmokrits  ScJirift  wepl  eveufj.i7]s  (Hermes,  xiv.  354^);  Natorp,  Die 
Ethika  des  Deviokritos,  1893  (reviewed  by  Diels  in  the  DeiitscJic 
Litterat7ir-Zeitu7ig,  1893,  No.  41).  Scanty  but  evidently  genuine 
information  on  the  ethics  of  Democritus  is  given  by  Laert.  Diog., 
ix.  45.  The  terms  "cheerfulness,"  "well-being,"  and  "composure" 
represent  respectively  the  Democritean  expressions  evdv^u'n^,  eh^arw, 
and  aOa/j-^iT]. 

Page  368,  1.  37.  The  "  brilliant  fragment  "  mentioned  in  the  text, 
and  preserved  in  Stobceus,  Florilegiiivi,  46,  48,  has  been  conjecturally 
restored  by  the  author  of  this  work  in  his  Beitreige  zur  Kritik  itfid 
Erkldrujio-  griech.  Schriftsteller,  iii.  26  (=  586,  Wiener  Sitzungsber., 
1876). 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  57; 


Book  III. — Chapter  III. 

Page  371,1.  21.  Diogenes  of  Apollonia  :  he  is  treated  by  Laert. 
Diog.  (ix.  ch.  9),  who  quotes  his  proem,  but  otherwise  deals  with  him 
very  scantily.  The  fragments  are  in  Schorn  (cf.  note  to  p.  208,  supr.) 
and  in  Vsinzerhxeier,  Diogenes  Apolloniatcs,  Leipsic,  1830.  Also  cf.  Chr. 
Petersen,  Hippocratis  nomine  qiicc  circiimfernntur  scripta,  etc.  (Ham- 
burger Gymnasial-Programm,  1839)  !  Diels'  above-mentioned  dis- 
course on  Leucippus  and  Democritus,  and  his  essays  on  "  Leukippos 
und  Diogenes  von  Apollonia"  {Rhcinisches  MHScnin,yi}L\\.  iff.;  and 
"  Uber  die  Excerpte  von  Menons  latrika  "  {Hc^-mes,  xxviii.  4277^). 
The  chief  evidence  is  that  of  Theophrastus  (Doxogr.,  477,  5). 

Page  373,  1.  21.  On  the  wording  of  this  slightly  corrupt  passage, 
cf.  my  Bcitrcige  ztcr  Kritilc  und  Erkldning-,  etc.,  i.  39  (=  271,  Wiener 
Sitzungsberichte,  1875). 

Page  374,  1.  22.  The  "Theory  of  Heaven"  {fxirewpoXoyia),  and 
likewise  the  treatise  inpl  avdpuTrov  (pva-fus,  were  not  actually  seen  by 
Simplicius,  to  whom  we  are  once  more  indebted  for  nearly  all  the 
fragments  ;  he  only  found  them  mentioned  in  the  principal  work  of 
Diogenes  (P/i_ys.,  i.  4,  p.  151,  Diels). 

Page  375,  1.  13.  The  remark  on  Homer  is  in  Philodemus,  On 
Piety,  p.  70  of  my  edition.  Diimmler  {Akadeniil:a,  113)  seeks  to 
show  that  the  Stoics  depended  on  Diogenes  "  in  their  theory  of  per- 
ception and  also  in  their  .  .  .  embryology."  Diimmler  {ibid.  225), 
and  Weygoldt  besides  {Archie,  i.  161  ff.),  discuss  the  relation  of 
Diogenes  to  certain  treatises  in  the  Hippocratic  collection. 

Page  376,  1.  21.  For  Theophrastus'  "critical  review  of  the 
psychology  of  Diogenes,''  see  De  Sensibiis,  39  ff.  (Doxogr.,  S'^'^  ff-)- 
The  verse  quoted  (1.  35)  from  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes  runs :  Alvos 
0a(TtKevft  Tuv  Ai'  t^€\-r)\aKd>s  (828  Meineke,  repeated  1472  ;  cf.,  too, 
380/.). 

Page  377,  1.  20.  Hippo  :  the  fragments  of  the  naudn-Tai  in  Kock, 
Coniicoruni  Atficorum  Fragnioita.,  i.  60  ff.  For  the  single  fragment 
(1.  24),  cp.  Nicole,  Lcs  scolics  GcncToiscs  dc  niiade,  i.  198  (Cieneva, 
1S91)  ;  it  maintains  the  opinion,  much  discussed  at  tliat  time,  that  the 
water  of  all  springs  and  wells  is  derived  from  the  sea.  On  this,  cf. 
Diels,  "  Uber  die  Gcnfer  Fragmcnte  dcs  Xcnophancs  und  Hippon," 
in  the  Berliner  .Sit::ungsberichie,  1891,  S7S  ff-  Aristotle's  remark  is 
from  Afefaphys.,  i.  3,  and  De  .■Ininm,  i.  2.  My  own  views  in  the  text 
(1.  27)  rest  on  a  combination  of  Aristotle's  Metaphvs.,  i.  3,  of  Iiis 
(  ommentator  Alexander  on  the  passage  (p.  21,  17,  IJonil/.),  and  of 
Hippolytus,  i.  i6  (Doxogr.,  566,  20).  The  valuable  information  of 
Hippolytus  first  permitted  us  to  include  Hippo  in  the  eclectic  move- 
ment of  the  age,  whereas  tlie  bald  and  all  too  brief  statement  of 
Aristotle  made  him  appear  as  a  singularly  belated  follower  of  Thales. 

I'age    377,  1.   34.     .Archclaus  :  cf.  Lacrl.  Diog.,  ii.  ch.  4  ;  further, 


574  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

Theophrastus,  in    Doxogr.,    479  /.,    ^tius   {ibid.,  280),   Hippolytus, 
i.  9  {ibid.,  563). 

Page  378,  §  3.  I  recovered  Metrodorus'  "  allegorical  key  to 
Homer  "from  Herculanensiiiin  Voluminutn  Collcctio  Altera,  vii.  90, 
on   the    basis    of    a   short   note    in    the    lexicographer    Hesychius, 

' k.'ya.p.ip.vuv'  rhv  aldepa  Mr]Tp65(opos  aWrjyopiKcis.        This     '  find       was     first 

published  in  the  Academy,  15  Jan.,  1873. 

Kenan's  "  remark  about  Philo's  allegorizing  interpretation  of  the 
scriptures  :"  Histoire  du  pcnple  d'' Israel,  v.  349. 

On  Theagenes  and  his  followers,  cf.  Bergk,  Griechische  Littcratur- 
Geschichtc,  i.  264,  891.  The  apology  of  Theagenes  is  mentioned  in  a 
scholion  to  Iliad,  xx.  67.  His  "  floruit  "  (or  birth,  -yi-^ovois  ?)  is  fixed  by 
Tatian  {Adv.  Grccc.,  cap.  48),  in  the  reign  of  Cambyses,  i.e.  between  529 
and  522,  so  that  he  was  a  neighbour  of  Xenophanes  in  a  temporal  no 
less  than  in  a  local  sense.  We  have  already  mentioned  Democritus' 
share  in  the  allegorical  interpretation  ;  the  share  of  Anaxagoras  is 
warranted  by  a  tradition,  which  has  been  quite  needlessly  suspected, 
in  Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  11. 

Book   III.— Chapter   IV. 

Page  381.  Here,  and  also  in  the  following  chapter,  I  have  to 
some  extent  drawn  on  my  old  essay,  "  The  Greek  Sophists  "  {Deutsche 
Jahrb'uciicr  fur  Politik  uiid  Litter atur,  April,  1863),  in  part  verbally, 
and  in  part  with  sundry  additions  and  corrections. 

Page  384,  1.  18.  "Introduction  of  foreign  cults:"  cf.  M.  Clerc, 
Les  ineteqjees  Atheiiiens,  11%  Jf.,  Paris,  1893.  (For  the  Athenians' 
love  of  strangers  as  extended  even  to  the  gods,  see  Strabo,  x.  3,  iS, 
p.  471.)  Cf.  Foucart,  Les  associations  r^ligiejises  ches  les  Grecs,  57, 
Paris,  1873. 

Page  386,  1.  2.  Charondas  :  The  question  as  to  the  period  of  his 
activity  has  been  treated  most  recently  by  Busolt,  Griech.  Geschichte, 
i.  279,  n.  I,  but  unfortunately  still  without  finality.  Aristotle  (1.  3)  on 
Charondas,  Politics,  ii.  12.  For  his  "  law  relating  to  the  guardianship 
of  orphans"  (1.  6),  see  Diodorus,  xii.  15. 

Pages  386,  387.  "  Professional  authorship  :  "  the  art  of  cooking,  by 
Mitha:cus,  see  Plato,  Gorgias,  518  C.  Athenasus,  i.  p.  5  B,  preserves 
a  little  of  a  versified  work  of  this  kind  by  Philoxenus  the  Leucadian. 
The  books  of  Democritus  on  tactics  and  warfare  appear  in  the 
catalogue  of  his  writings,  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  48,  His  treatises  on 
painting  and  agriculture  are  also  mentioned  there.  (The  doubts  as 
to  the  authenticity  of  the  last-named  work  expressed  by  Gemoll, 
Untersiichiingen  uber  die  Qiiellen  .  .  .  der  Gcoponica,  125,  Berlin, 
1883,  seem  to  me  utterly  unfounded.)  The  Dietetics  of  Herodicus 
of  Selymbria  are  several  times  mentioned  by  Plato,  in  the 
Hippocratic    writings,   in    Galen,    etc.,   and    finally   in   the    London 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  575 

Papyrus.  Xenophon  in  his  little  treatise  Trep!  'nnnKrjs  names  Simon  as 
his  predecessor.  Lasus  of  Hermione,  who  lived  at  the  court  of  the 
Pisistratida;,  is  called  by  Suidas  the  oldest  theorist  in  music.  There 
seems  to  me  no  doubt,  especially  after  the  quotations  in  Philodemus 
(cf.  my  treatise,  Zu  Philode^ns  B'uchern  von  der  Musik,  10,  Vienna, 
1885),  that  Damon,  whose  personality  and  importance  are  well 
known,  likewise  discussed  music.  Biicheler's  reserve  {Rhcinischcs 
Musciivi,  xl.  309^)  can  hardly  hold  out  against  these  passages.  Of 
Hippias  we  shall  speak  later.  On  the  painter  Agatharchus,  who 
wrote  on  scenic  decoration,  cf.  Vitruvius,  pref.  to  Book  VII.  (also  on 
Anaxagoras,  ibid.).  Sophocles  perfected  the  technique  of  the  stage, 
and  certainly  wrote  on  the  Chorus  (Suidas,  ^.7'.).  On  the  "  Canon  "  of 
Polycletus,  cf.  Galen,  De  Hippocrat.  ct  Plat.  Placiiis,  v.  448,  Kiihn  ; 
the  sole  fragment,  a  small  one,  is  in  Philo,  Mechanic.  Syntaxis,  ed. 
Schone,  iv.  50,  5^  A  library  on  the  art  of  soothsaying,  apparently 
not  altogether  insignificant,  is  mentioned  by  the  orator  Isocrates, 
Orai.  19,  5.  Hippodamus  of  Miletus  is  treated  by  Aristotle,  Pol., 
ii.  8.  To  the  category  of  professional  authorship,  too,  belong  the 
mathematical,  astronomical,  and  rhetorical  manuals,  which  we  have 
not  expressly  mentioned  here. 

Page  388,  1.  30.  Moschion  :  see  Fragm.  6  in  Nauck's  Tra<^icorii/n 
Crcecorum  Fragmcnta,  p.  812,  ed.  2. 

Page  389,  1.  2.  For  the  great  fragment  of  the  Sisyphus  of  Critias, 
ibid.  771.  The  treatise  by  Protagoras  "On  the  Aboriginal  State" 
of  mankind  (1.  4)  is  mentioned  by  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  55.  Plato's 
reproduction  of  it  (1.  24)  is  in  the  dialogue  Protagof'as,  320  C  ff. 

Page  390,  1.  30.  George  Forster :  see  the  introduction  to  the 
German  translation  of  Cook's  Third  Voyage,  v.  6j  Jf.,  in  the  edition  of 
Gervinus. 

Pages  391,  392.  Locke's  treatises  "On  Civil  Government "  are  in 
the  fifth  vol.  of  his  collected  works  (10  vols.,  London,  1S23).  Chief 
passages,  398,  400,  405.  On  p.  398  (§  103  of  the  second  treatise)  is 
the  curious  saying  about  the  argument  from  what  has  been  to 
what  should  be. 

Page  392,  1.  18.  Marsilius  of  Padua:  his  Defensor  Pads  was 
published  in  manuscript  in  1346  ;  but  the  book  had  been  completed 
before  11  July,  1324  :  cf.  O.  Lorenz,  DeutscJilands  GescJiicIitstpicllen  ini 
Mitlclaller,  ii.  349,  ed.  3.  A  noteworthy  sentence  is  the  following  in 
c.  xii. :  "  Convenerunt  enim  homines  ad  civilcm  communicationem 
propter  commodum  et  vitie  sufficientiam  consequendam  et  opposita 
declinanduin."  And  another:  "  ()uia  .  .  .  nemo  sibi  scienter  nocet 
aut  vult  iniustum,  ideoque  volunt  omnes  aut  plurimi  legem  con- 
venientem  communi  civium  confcrenti  "  (in  the  sense  of  the  Greek 
(Tvfj.<p(pov  =  advantage). 

On  the  earlier  medieval  forms  of  the  doctrine  of  the  social  contract 
(1.  28),  cf.  H.  von  Eicken,  (icschiclile  und  Syslein  der  inittehilterliclien 


576  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

WcltanscJiaituiig,  356^  Friedrich  von  Gentz  did  indeed  state  in  so 
many  words  that  "  the  social  contract  is  the  basis  of  general  political 
science"  (cf.  John  Austin,  The  Province  of  yurispriidence,  i.  310,  ed. 
2)  ;  but  still  he  added  the  counter-statement  :  "  The  original  contract 
.  .  .  was  .  .  .  nowhere  actually  concluded "  (Biester's  Berliner 
Mojiatsschrift,  1793,  p.  537).  Karl  Welcker  (died  1869)  may  be 
taken  as  the  last  representative  of  the  original-contract  theory,  though, 
admittedly,  in  a  strongly  modified  sense  ;  cf  Bluntschli,  Geschichte  dcs 
allgcmeinen  Staatsrechts,  p.  538. 

Page  393,  1.  31.  Plato,  Republic,  ii.  358  E  ;  the  authors  of  the 
theory  are  not  mentioned. 

Page  394,1.  3.  Epicurus  :  apud  Laert.  Diog.,  x.  150,  and  Lucretius, 
V.  1017 ff.,  ii^iff- 

Page  394,  §  5.  John  Stuart  Mill :  Essays  on  Some  Unsettled 
Questions  of  Political  Economy,  p.  157  (London,  1844)  :  "But  while 
the  philosopher  and  the  practical  man  bandy  half-truths  with  one 
another,  we  may  seek  far  without  finding  one  who,  placed  on  a  higher 
eminence  of  thought,  comprehends  as  a  whole  what  they  see  only  in 
separate  parts." 

Page  395, 1.  36.     Heraclitus  on  ^io^  and  ^^is,  Fragm.  66,  Bywater. 

Page  396,  1.  14.  The  arguments  of  Democritus  are  quoted  by 
Proclus  in  his  commentary  on  Plato's  Cratylns,  p.  6  of  Boissonade's 
edition. 

Page  398, 1.  4.  Epicurus  :  the  principal  passage  is  in  Laert.  Diog., 
X.  75  /.  Besides  Lucretius,  v.  1026  Jf.  (Bernays),  and  Origen,  Contra 
Celsiim,  pp.  \^Jf.  (Spencer),  the  Oenoanda  stone  must  now  be  specially 
consulted;  cp.  Bulletin  de  corrcspondance  hclleniquc,  1892,  pp.  43 J)'^ 
(discussed  by  myself  in  the  gazette  of  the  Imperial  Academy  of 
Sciences,  Vienna,  6  July,  1892  ;  at  greater  length,  and  in  many  re- 
spects better,  by  Usener,  Rheinisches  Museum,  xlvii.  440^). 

Page  401,  1.  15.  Darwin,  The  Expression  of  the  Emotions,  270, 
and  272,  273,  2nd  ed.,  London,  1890. 

Page  402,  1.  3.  Archelaus  :  besides  Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  ch.  4,  cf  Hip- 
polytus,  i.  9  (Doxogr.  Gr.,  564,  6  ff^.  Euripides  (1.  36)  :  Fragm.  920 
and  168.  » 

Page  403, 1.  5.  Alcidamas  :  Oratores  Attici  (Zurich  edition),  ii.  154. 
Bardesanes  (1.  21)  :  Excerpts  in  Eusebius,  Prccp.  Evang.,  vi.  10  ;  the 
Syriac  text  in  Cureton's  Spicilcgium  Syriacum.  To  this  category 
belongs  also  the  fragment  in  The  Flinders  Petrie  Papyri,  i.,  No.  9, 
Dublin,  1891.  Herodotus  (1.  22):  iii.  38  ;  notealsothe  intentness  with 
which  he  traces  the  contrast  between  Egyptian  and  Greek  usages 
down  to  the  smallest  details,  ii.  35.  An  allied  tendency  which  came 
to  marked  expression  dominates  the  narrative  of  the  medieval 
traveller.  Sir  John  Mandeville. 

Page  404,  1.  3.  The  fragment  of  Pindar  quoted  by  Herodotus  is  in 
Bergk,  PoctcE  Lyrici  Grceci,  i.  439,  ed.  4.     The  next  quotation  (1.  7)  is 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  ^'J'] 

taken  from  the  so-called  AiaKi^ns,  written  in  the  Doric  dialect 
{Opuscida  moralia,  coll.  Orelli,  ii.  216  =  Mullach,  Fragm.  Philos.  Gr., 
i.  546  B).  On  this,  cf.  Rohde  in  the  Gottingcn  University  Gazette, 
1884,  p.  30;  Diimmler,  Akadeinika,  250;  and  my  remarks  in  the 
Deutsche  Litteratur-Zcititng,  1889,  col.  1340.  Euripides  (1.  17),  Ion, 
854  ff.,  and  Fragm.  336.  Hippias  (1.  34),  in  Plato,  Protagoras, 
337  C. 

Page  405.  Our  remarks  on  the  affinity  between  the  doctrine 
voiced  by  CaUicles  and  Heraclitean  thought  agree  very  well  with  the 
very  words  in  Gorgias,  490  A  :  noWaKis  &i>a  eh  (ppovoii'  /xvpiwv  fxT]  (ppo- 
vowToiv  KpelTToov  fffTt,  aud  again  :  el  6  eh  rcov  fjiupiwv  KpeirTwv,  chiming 
exactly  with  Heraclitus,  Fragm.  113:  els  ejxol  ^vpiot,  eav  ipLO-ros  ??,  a 
harmony  which  did  not  remain  unnoticed  even  in  antiquity  ;  cf. 
Olynipiodori  Scholia  in  Plat.  Gorg.,  p.  267,  ed.  Jahn,  in  yahrb.  fiir 
PhiloL,  xiv.,  suppl.  vol.  (Leipsic,  1848).  Bergk's  conjecture  (Griech. 
Litter atur-Geschichte,  iv.  447)  that  Callicles  was  but  a  transparent  mask 
for  Charicles,  a  well-known  oligarch  of  that  age,  can  hardly  be  correct. 
The  slight  change  in  the  form  of  the  name  would  have  been  to  no  pur- 
pose, inasmuch  as  a  number  of  details  are  introduced  about  the  per- 
sonality of  the  man  (cf.  especially  487  C),  which  would  have  been  silly  if 
thty  did  not  apply  to  the  original,  and,  if  they  did,  would  have  frustrated 
Plato's  intention.     Callicles  appears  as  abater  of  sophists  in  Gorgias. 

520  A,  where  to  the  question  ovkovv  aKoveis  roiavra  KeyovTwv  tSiv  <pa(TK6vT0}V 
iraiSeveiv  avOpanrovs  eh  a.peTr\v  ;  he  answers,  170)7?  *  aWa  rl  i.v  \eyois  aydpanraiu 
irepL  ovSevlis  a^iwv  ; 

Page  406.  The  quotations  from  the  Gorgias  refer  to  483  E  and 
492  D.  The  phrase  occurring  between  the  two  about  "  the  rule  of  the 
mightier  "  is  a  quotation  from  Haller,  against  whom  Hegel,  Rcchtsphi- 
losophie  (Gesam.  Werke,  viii.),  317,  directs  a  polemic,  as  spirited  as  it 
is  clever. 

Page  407,  §  8.  Diagoras  of  Melos.  Of  this  writer  wc  possess  five 
verses  from  two  different  poems  (Philodemus,  On  Piety,  p.  85,  ed. 
Gomperz),  besides  the  title  (Jdid.)  of  a  third  poem.  These  verses 
breathe  a  thoroughly  religious  spirit,  and  lend  complete  credibility  to 
the  report  that  his  faith  in  the  gods  or  in  providence  was  shattered  by 
some  unrequited  injury  of  which  he  was  the  victim.  Cp.  the  Scholion 
to  Aristophanes,  Clouds,  St,o,  Meineke;  .Sexl.  Emp.,  402,  17 JI-.  Bekker  ; 
and  Suidas,  s.7/.  Of  his  prose  writings  we  are  acquainted  witli  two 
titles,  the  atroirvpyiCovTei  and  the  'tpvywi  \6yoi  (Suidas  ;  Tatian,  Or.  ad 
Gr.,  c.  27),  both  probably  designating  the  same  work,  in  which  lie 
seems  to  have  satirized. the  belief  in  mysteries,  and  to  have  employed 
that  semi-historical  method  of  treating  the  gods  wliich  was  later  known 
as  the  Euhemcristic  (cf.  Lobeck,  Aglaoph.,  370/).  A  precise  date  is 
afforded  only  by  the  statement  in  Diodorus,  xiii.  6,  that  the  Athenians 
had  put  a  price  on  the  head  of  Diagoras  in  the  year  415-4.  during  the 
VOL.   I.  2    1' 


5/8  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

sensational  days  of  the  Mutilation  of  the  Herma;  and  kindred  occur- 
rences. This  is  not  contradicted  by  the  reference  in  the  speech  of 
Pseudo-Lysias  against  Andocides,  which,  according  to  Jebb,  Aitic 
Orators,  i.  277,  ed.  2,  was  composed  in  the  year  399.  It  is  more 
difficult  to  reconcile  with  it  the  allusion  in  the  Clouds  of  Aristophanes, 
830  (Meineke),  according  to  which  the  irreligious  spirit  of  the  poet 
must  have  been  notorious  as  early  as  423.  Thoroughly  confusing 
are  the  data  in  Suidas,  who  places  his  "  floruit "  in  the  78th 
Olympiad,  and  at  the  same  time  makes  Democritus  (who  was  yet 
unborn  !)  emancipate  him  from  slavery.  Nor  does  Eusebius  furnish 
any  help,  for  he  at  one  time  reckons  Diagoras  among  the  nature- 
philosophers  and  at  another  connects  him  with  the  lyric  poet 
Bacchylides,  and  sets  his  "  floruit,"  first  in  the  75th,  and  secondly  in 
the  78th  Olympiad  {Chronicoii,  ii.  102  f.,  Schone).  We  may  mention 
in  passing  the  anecdote  in  Cicero,  De  Natiira  Dconan,  iii.  37,  and  in 
Laert.  Diog.,  vi.  59,  which  wavers  between  Diagoras  and  Diogenes  the 
Cynic,  nor  should  we  forget  in  so  doing  the  ludicrous  contradictions 
in  which  Cicero  involves  himself  {Dc  N.  D.,  ibid.  ;  andcp.  i.  i  and  42). 

Page  408,  1.  21.  Herodotus,  i.  32.  Euripides  (1.  25),  Fragm.  285. 
Then  Herodotus,  iii.  ^off.  ;  Euripides,  Fragi/i.  8ro  ;  Suppliants,  91 1  j^ 
(Nauck)  ;  and  Fragm.  1027. 

Page  409,  1.  19.  "The  parallel  between  the  cultivation  of  the 
intellect  and  the  sowing  of  a  field:''  cp.  pseudo-Hippocrates,  NoVoj 
(iv.  640,  Littrd),  and  AntipJiotitis  Soph.  Fragm.,  i34(Blass).  Natural 
disposition,  education,  knowledge,  exercise — these  ideas  appear  as 
early  as  Thucydides  (i.  121,  3),  like  the  worn  coinage  of  currency.  We 
shall  have  to  consider  later  on  what  Protagoras  has  to  say  on  the  same 
subject.  "  Culture  "  and  "  natural  disposition  "  are  likewise  combined 
by  the  author  of  the  pseudo-Hippocratic  treatise,  "  On  the  Art " 
(vi.  16,  Littre).  Cf.,  further,  Democritus  (.'), /v'rt^/;/.  ;;;<?;-.,  130  and  133 
(Mullach),  which  may  again  be  compared  with  Nauck,  Frag)}icnta 
Gracorum  Tragicorum,  ed.  2,  "Adespota,"  516,  and  Critias,  Frag/n. 
6  (Bergk).  Echoes  of  all  these  discussions  in  Isocrates,  Oral.  13,  17/!, 
and  in  Plato,  Pluvdrus,  269  D. 

Page  409,  1.  30.  Phaleas  of  Chalcedon  :  cf.  Aristotle, /"^i/Z/Zti-,  ii.  7. 
His  date  may  be  fi.xed  with  approximate  certainty  by  the  fact  that  he 
v/as  younger  than  Hippodamus  (who  Trpajros  tojv  yu?j  Tro\iTevojui.evajv 
iveX^^PV^^  Ti  vepl  TToAiTsias  elTr€7v  TTis  ap((TTT]s,  ibid.,  8),  and  yet  evidently 
older  than  Plato.      In  Aristotle's  account  of  the   political  ideal   of 

Hippodamus,  the  words  ^ero  S'  eiSjj  koX  tS>v  vojxwv  elvai  rpla  jxovov'  irepi  Siv 
yap  at  Si'/cai  yivovrai,  rpia  ravr'  ehai  rhv  api.dfji.6v,  v^piv  fiKafiriv  Qdvarov  can  only 

refer,  in  my  opinion,  to  penal  laws.  This  is  not  merely  because  al  SiKai 
points  to  that  interpretation,  nor  because  the  three  given  categories 
can  only  form  the  basis  of  a  classification  of  the  penal  code,  but  also 
because  Hippodamus,  so  far  from  repealing  or  limiting  legislation  for 
the  public  welfare,  was  far  rather  concerned  to  extend  and  enlarge  its 


NOTES  AND  ADDITIONS.  579 

conventional  boundaries.  And,  apart  from  this,  what  room  would 
otherwise  be  left  for  constitutional  law,  for  the  administrative  code, 
for  civil  justice?  Aristotle  uses  the  word  foVoi  in  the  same  restricted 
sense  when  he  calls  Pittacus,  and  again  Draco  (with  but  a  slight 
change  of  diction),  an  author  of  v6^<jiv  hxh!  oh  iroKLTiias  (^Pol.,  ii.  12). 
What  the  y^ovov  in  the  citation  is  meant  to  exclude  we  do  not  know  ; 
perhaps  those  portions  of  criminal  law  in  which  the  injured — or  like- 
wise the  injuring — parties  are  other  than  human  beings  ? 

Page  411,  1.  2.  For  the  Aristophanic  buffoonery,  cp.  Frogs,  892  y^ 
(Meineke)  :  aXQi]^  ifxhu  p6crK7jfj.a  koI  yKwTrris  (rrpocpiy^  /cat  ^v^/etri  Kal  /jiVKT?ipiS 
ocrcppavTTipLoi. 

Book  III. — Chapter  V. 

Page  412,  1.  8.  /Elian,  Var.  Hist.,  xii.  32,  relates  that  Gorgias  and 
Hippias  wore  purple  raiment  on  holiday  occasions.  On  the  similar 
appearance  of  the  rhapsodists,  cf.  Plato,  Ion,  530  B.  More  details, 
though  with  but  a  paltry  explanation,  are  given  by  Eustathius  on 
Iliad,  i.  iiiit.  For  the  description  of  a  richly  decked  rhapsodist, 
relating  indeed  to  the  very  earliest  times,  cf.  Nicolaus  Damasc, 
P'ragm.  62  {Fragni.  Hist.  Grwc,  iii.  395).  The  first  impulse  towards 
the  teaching  of  drawing  (1.  20)  was  given  by  the  painter  Pamphilus  of 
Sicyon,  who  is  mentioned  in  the  Pliitus  of  Aristophanes  (produced 
B.C.  388)  ;  cf.  v.  385,  Meineke.  Cf.  Ilermann-BIumaer,  Prirat- 
Altcrti'imcr,  324  and  473). 

Page  413,  1.  10.  Protagoras  of  Abdera  :  in  the  Platonic  dialogue 
of  that  name,  318  V..  Cf.  with  this  the  very  similar  object  pursued  by 
the  orator  Isocrates  in  his  instruction.  Or.  15,  §§  304/".  {Oratorcs 
Aitici,  i.  289  A),  and  also  the  way  in  which  Xenophon  at  least  re- 
garded the  intercourse  of  Socrates  with  young  men  {Mi-i/ior.,  i.  2,  64). 

Pages  414,  415.  This  account  is  freely  adapted  to  Plato's  in  the 
dialogue  just  alluded  to. 

Page  416,  1.  10.  Valuable  evidence  on  the  use  of  tlic  word 
"sophist"  had  already  been  collected  in  antiquity  by  the  orator 
Aristides  (ii.  407,  Dindorf).  /Eschylus  and  Soplioclcs  employ  the 
term  of  clever  musicians  (cf.  the  lexicons  of  those  authors  for  proofs)  ; 
yp'.schylus,  moreover,  calls  Prometheus  a  sophist  (vv.  62  and  943, 
Kirchhoff:  in  the  latter  passage  not  without  a  certain  bitterness). 
Pindar  speaks  so  of  musicians  and  poets,  Istliiu.,  5,  28.  Tlic  comic 
poet  Cratinus  comprises  under  that  designation  all  the  poets,  Homer 
and  Hesiod  included,  tTotj>i(TTwu  (r/xfjvos,  AlticoniDi  CoiiiicoriiDi  F>tr^- 
mctita,  i.  12,  Fragm.  2,  Kock.  The  historian  Androlion  aj)])lied  the 
name  sophist  to  the  seven  sages  (Aristides,  loc.  lit.).  Herodotus, 
implicitly  at  least,  calls  Solon  a  sophist  (i.  29),  and  Pythagoras  like- 
wise (iv.  95).  Diogenes  of  Apollonia  called  his  predecessors  by  that 
name  according    to  Simplic,  Physics,    151,   26,   Diels.     In   Isocrates 


580  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

{Helena,  9)  the  sophist  is  the  antithesis  of  the  layman  or  everyday 
man  ;  cf.  also  Ad  NicocL,  13,  and  Ad  Demoiiic,  51  (the  latter  indeed 
of  doubtful  authenticity).  In  a  no  less  honourable  sense  the  word  is 
used  by  Alcidamas  in  the  exordium  of  his  speech  "  On  the  Sophists." 
The  popular  decree  introduced  by  Diopeithes  (1.  31)  is  in  Plutarch, 
Life  of  Pericles^  ch.  32. 

Page  417,  1.  5.  On  the  contempt  of  manual  labour,  cf.  Herodotus, 
ii.  167.  On  the  Theban  law  of  exclusion  (1.  9),  cf.  Aristotle,  Politics, 
iii.  5  (1278  A  25).  Later  we  shall  have  to  treat  of  Plato's  and 
Aristotle's  contempt  of  industrial  activity  (1.  11);  here  a  couple  of 
examples  will  suffice  :  tous  (pavXovs  re  kclI  x^^porexvas,  I'la.to,  Pepuilic,  iii. 
405  A  ;  ■^  Se  PeXTiffrr]  voXis  oh  iroiriffei  fiavavffov  iroXlrriv,  Aristotle,  Politics, 
iii.  5,  1278  A  8.  For  the  contempt  felt  for  the  orator  or  writer  of 
speeches  (1.  20),  cp.  the  account  of  the  gibes  at  Antiphon  by  the  comic 
poet  Platon  in  pseudo-Plutarch,  Vit.  X.  Oratot-.,  p.  833  C  (  =  ii.  1015, 
Diibner),  and  Philostratus,  who. is  vaguer,  Vit.  Sophist.,  i.  15  (  =  ii.  16, 
Kayser).  On  Isocrates,  cf.  Blass,  Attische  Bercdsavikeit^  ii.  14,  ed.  2, 
and  pseudo-Plutarch,  op.  cit.,  837  B  (  =  1020,  20,  Diibner),  to  which 
Blass  refers  {ibid.,  21).  Note,  too,  the  satisfaction  with  which  Theo- 
pompus,  the  disciple  of  Isocrates,  in  the  Bibliothcca  of  Photius,  cod. 
176,  p.  120,  Bekker,  plumes  himself  on  his  own  independent  means, 
which  saved  him  from  the  necessity  of  writing  speeches  for  pay,  or 
giving  lessons  as  a  sophist. 

On  Lord  Byron  (1.  27),  who  sneered  at  Sir  Walter  Scott  because 
he  wrote  for  money  and  "worked  for  his  patrons,"  cf.  Brandes, 
H anptstrbmungen  der  Litteratitr,  etc.,  iv.  190.  My  remarks  on  the 
founders  of  the  Edinburgh  Review  are  based  on  Cockburn's  Life  of 
Lord  Jeffrey,  \.  133,  136,  ii.  70  (Edinburgh,  1852).  J.J.  Rousseau's 
antipathy  to  writing  for  a  livelihood  is  well  known  ;  cf.  his  Confessions, 
book  9.  ^ch.&rex,  Poetik,  122,  says,  "In  the  sixteenth  century  the 
payment  of  authors  was  not  firmly  established  ;  it  was  still  doubtful 
if  it  was  honourable  to  accept  remuneration." 

To  look  at  the  thing  from  the  standard  of  antiquity,  the  words 

attributed  to  Isocrates  {loC.cit.\  ore  Kal  ISwu  rhv  jj.ia-Q'bv  apLdjj.ovfj.evoi',  flm 
SaKpixras  is  "  itriyvwv  ifxavrhv  vw  roirois  Treirpa/xepoi','^  should  be  compared 
with  those  of  Xenophon  {Menior.A.  2,  6),  rohs  Si  Aafx^dvovras  t^$  d/xtKias 
fjLiaQhv  avSpaTtoSicrras  kavrccv  aneKoiXei.  No  less  Striking  is  the  agreement 
between  the  utterance  of  Plato  {Repjtblic,  ix.  590  C),  ^avava-ia  re  Kal 
XftpoTsxvla  Sia  ri,  oUl,  uveiSos  (pepfL ;  and  that  of  Xenophon  {Cyncg.,  13,  8), 

apKii  eKaffrqi  (T0(pi(7T7]y  K\T]dr}vai,  o  iariv  ovfiSos  irapa  ye  toIs  eii  (ppovovcriv. 
From  this  point  of  view  we  may  get  to  understand  Xenophon 
{Memor.,i.6,  13)  expressing  his  contempt  of  the  sophists  in  the  crude 

words,    Kal    Trjv    (TO<piav    oKravTois  rovs  fJifV  apyvplov  rcf  /SouA.o^e'i'^  iraiKovvTas 

(remember  the  ireirpa/j-fvov  of  Isocrates)  a-ocpiffras  &(nrfp  Tropvovs  anoKa- 
\odaiv,  though,  indeed,  the  same  Xenophon  at  other  times  means  by 
"sophists"  simply   "philosophers:"  cf.  Meinor.,  i.  i,  11,  b  KaKovp.ivos 


\ 


\ 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  58 1 

virh  Tu>v  aocpLCTTcev  k6it/j.os  ;  and  iv.  2,  I,  ypa,fj./j.aTa  ttoWo.  ffw(i\eyixfvov  ttoititwv 

T€  Kal  (Tocpicrro)!'  rwv  fvSoKtfiooTdTaiu.  And  it  signifies  but  little  else  when 
Plato  {Protagoras^  312  A)  makes  young  Hippocrates,  "the  son  of  a 
great  and  rich  family,"  whose  heart  is  so  set  on  the  instruction  of 
Protagoras,  answer  with  a  decided  "  No  "  and  a  blush  the  question  if 
he  meant  to  become  a  sophist  himself.  In  order  not  to  be  misled  at 
this  point,  let  the  reader  now  open  his  Plutarch  at  the  life  of  Pericles, 
ch.  2 :  "  There  was  never  any  young  gentleman  nobly  born,  that 
seeing  the  image  of  Jupiter  (which  is  in  the  city  of  Pisa)  desired  to 
become  Phidas  ;  nor  Polyclitus,  from  seeing  of  Juno,  in  the  city  o! 
Argos ;  nor  that  desired  to  be  Anacreon,  or  Philemon,  or  Archilo- 
chus,  for  that  they  took  pleasure  sometime  to  read  their  works  "' 
(North). 

Page  418,  1.  16.  Cf  (Jowett)  Plato,  Gorgias,  485  D  :  /xera  frnpaKlwy 
iv  ywvia  rpiSiv  i}  rerripuy  ^idvpi^ovra.  The  words  are  addressed  to 
Socrates,  but,  as  was  remarked  long  ago,  they  apply  better  to  Plato 
than  to  Socrates. 

Page  418, 1.  38.  John  Stuart  Mill,  Dissertations  and  Discussions, 
iii.  295  (1867),  being  a  reprint  of  his  review  of  Grote's  Plato,  refers 
to  this  passage  {Lysis,  204  A),  which  had  previously  been  neglected  in 
the  discussion  of  the  present  question.  In  the  Mow,  85  B,  the  geo- 
meters are  called  sophists. 

Page  419,  1.  22.  Plato  sneers  at  the  trifling  fees  paid  to  the 
sophists,  Apology,  20  B,  C,  and  Cratylns,  384  B  ;  he  reproaches  them 
for  their  high  charges,  ibid.,  391  B,  C,  and  elsewhere. 

Pages  420,  421.  The  late  Professor  Henry  Sidgwick  {Journal  of 
Philology,  iv.  288  ff.)  was  the  first,  and,  so  far,  we  believe  the  only, 
writer  to  draw  attention  to  the  change  which  the  use  of  the  word 
"  sophist "  underwent  in  Plato's  own  day.  This  valuable  essay  ("  The 
Sophists")  constitutes,  indeed,  the  most  important  supplement  yet 
furnished  to  Grote's  treatment  of  this  subject,  which  Sidgwick  justly 
calls  "a  historical  discovery  of  the  highest  order,"  though  it  has  gained 
more  renown  than  serious  consideration. 

Page  421,  1.  10.  The  Aristotelian  use  of  the  word  "  sophist  "  can 
be  found  by  any  one  in  Bonitz's  excellent  Index. 

Pages  421,  422.  The  authorities  for  the  statements  here  advanced 
are  Isocrates,  Philipp.,  84  ;  Aristidcs,  op.  cit.  ;  Polybius,  xii.  8  ;  Plu- 
tarch, Life  of  Alexander,  chs.  53,  55  ;  Neuc  lUucIist'ucke  Epilcurs, 
published  by  the  author  of  the  present  work  in  the  IVirncr  .Sitzungs- 
berichtc,  1876,  pp.  91  /.  (7/.  of  the  separate  reprint);  (ialcn,  iv. 
449,  Kiihn  ;   Lucian,  I)c  Morte  Perrgrini,  §  13. 

On  the  use  of  the  word  "  sophist  "  in  the  time  of  the  Roman  l^nipirc, 
see  a  valuable  note  in  ICdwin  Hatch,  The  Influence  of  Greek  Ideas  and 
Usages  upon  the  Christian  Church  (The  Hibbirt  Lectures,  1888),  p.  loi, 
n.  2,  London,  1890.  Just  as  Plato  sneers  at  the  hxrge  fees  paid  to  tlie 
sophists,  so  ecclesiastical  writers,  especially  Justin  and  Tatian,  sneer 


582  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

at  those  paid  to  the  heathen  philosophers  and  rhetoricians  of  their  time 
(cf.  Renan,  Origincs  dn  Christianis7nc,  vi.  483 _^). 

Page  423,  1.  24.  The  author  has  devoted  a  comprehensive  dis- 
sertation to  the  treatise  "  On  the  Art,"  of  which  frequent  use  is  made 
in  this  and  the  next  section  ("  Die  Apologie  der  Heilkunst,"  Wiener 
Sitziiiigsbericlite^  1890,  No.  ix.). 

Page  425,  §  4.  Prodicus  :  cf.  chiefly  Welcker's  treatise,  "  Prodikos 
von  Kcos,Vorganger  des  Socrates"  [Rhein. Musetimfilr  Philol.,  i.,  and 
reprinted  in  his  Klelne  Schriften,  ii.  393  jT-))  a  treatise  eminently  distin- 
guished alike  by  its  richness  of  contents  and  impartiality  of  view. 
Next,  see  Cougny's  valuable  little  work,  De  Prodico  Ccio,  Socraiis 
Magistro  ct  Antecessore,  Paris,  1857.  We  possess  no  actual  fragments 
of  Prodicus,  for  the  three  sentences  in  Stobaeus  {Florileginvi,  i.  236, 
and  ii.  391,  Meineke)  and  in  Plutarch  {Dc  Sanii.prci:c.,c\\.  8  =  151,4/., 
Diibner)  can  hardly  be  regarded  as  such.  The  personal  friendship 
(1.  36)  between  Prodicus  and  Socrates  is  vouched  for  by  Xenophon 
{Conviv.,  iv.  26)  and  Plato  {Thecstetns,  151  B,  Mcjio,  381  D,  etc.), 
who  are  for  once  in  striking  agreement,  though  Plato,  as  is  his  wont, 
cannot  mention  the  evidently  established  fact  without  a  tinge  of 
irony. 

On  the  satire  of  Aristophanes  (page  426,  1.  4)  in  the  Taynvia-Tal,  see 
Kock,  Attico7-nin  Comicor7iin  Fragvicnta,  i.  490.  Yet  Aristophanes 
mentions  him  with  special  esteem  in  Clouds,  361  (Meineke).  The 
allusion  to  him  in  the  Birds,  692  (Meineke),  admits  no  certain  deduc- 
tions. The  quotation  in  the  text  (1.  8)  from  the  Callias  of  ^schines 
has  been  handed  down  to  us  by  Athenaeus,  v.  220  B.  The  historian 
Diodorus,  as  well  as  yEschines,  calls  Anaxagoras  a  sophist,  in  a 
passage,  too,  quite  free  from  animosity  :  ' Kvo.i^a'y6pa.v  rhv  cro(pi(rTi)v, 
SiSdcrKaAov  ovra  TlepiK\eovs,  ais  afft^ovvra  els  tous  Oeovs  ecruKOtpavrovv. 

On  the  influence  of  Prodicus  on  the  Cynics  (1.  29),  cf.  especially, 
besides  Welcker,  Diimmler,  Akadcmika,  passim.  His  two  books  on 
nature-philosophy  are  mentioned,  with  a  scanty  and  not  even  verbal 
transcript  from  them,  by  Galen,  i.  187  ;  ii.  130  ;  xv.  325,  Kiihn.  Cicero, 
Dc  Oratorc,  iii.  32,  128,  ascribes  an  active  interest  in  the  natiira 
rcriiiii  to  him  in  conjunction  with  Protagoras  and  the  orator  Thra- 
symachus. 

Antyllus,  quoted  by  Marcellinus,  Vit.  Time,  §  36  (in  Kriiger's  edit., 
ii.  197  ;  cf.  also  Spengel,  y4r//«;;z  Scriptorcs,  53/.),  credits  the  influence 
of  Prodicus  on  Thucydides  (page  427,  1.  7). 

Page  428,  1.  I.  Euripides:  Suppliants,  ig6  _ff^.,  i\e^e  yap  ns,  ws  ra 
X^ipova  irAflco  fiporo'iffiv  Icm  rwv  aixeivSvoiv.  The  deep  voice  of  Prodicus 
(1.  11)  is  mentioned  by  Plato,  Protagoras,  316  A,  where  there  is  also 
an  allusion  to  his  weakly  constitution.  Plato,  ibid.,  341  E,  hints  at 
the  inherited  gloom  of  the  inhabitants  of  Ceos  (1.  6)  ;  cp.  Welcker, 
p.  614.  The  description  of  life's  evils,  and  the  simile  tacked  on  to  it 
(11.  1-2)  ff-)i  occurs  in  the  pseudo-Platonic  Axiochus,  360  V>,ff.     For 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  583 

what  follows,  cf.  I'buf.,  369  B.      For  the  similar  remark  by  Epicurus 
(1.  21),  see  Laert.  Diog.,  x.  125. 

Here,  however,  a  reservation  must  be  made.  The  quotations  in 
the  last  dozen  lines  are  transmitted  to  us  in  the  pseudo-Platonic 
Axiochus.  This  is  a  comparatively  late  literary  production,  and  its 
language  is  all  too  leniently  criticized  by  K.  F.  Hermann  {Gcschichte 
u)id  Sj's/cfn  der  platonisclicii  Philosophic,  p.  583),  when  he  calls  it, 
non-Platonic  indeed,  but  for  the  most  part  pure  Attic.  It  is  far  more 
likely  that  the  little  treatise  dates  from  post-Alexandrian  times,  as 
seems  to  be  clearly  proved  by  the  occurrence  of  non- Platonic  and 
non-Attic  word-forms  and  constructions  in  absolute  profusion.  Now, 
since  the  ideas  attributed  therein  to  Prodicus  partly  reappear  in  later 
writers  U'.i^'.  in  Crates  the  Cynic,  in  Epicurus,  and  apparently,  at  least, 
also  in  Bion  of  Borysthenes),  one  may  begin  by  hazarding  the  con- 
jecture that  the  author  of  the  Axiochus  and  these  writers  did  not 
really  draw  from  a  common  source,  but  that  he  far  more  probably 
drew  from  them.  Early  and  late,  many  scholars  have  been  found  to 
vote  for  this  view,  H.  Feddersen's  recent  discussion  being  the  most 
confident  and  searching  {Ubcr den  pscndo-platonisclicii  Dialoi^  Axio- 
chos,  Realschul-Programm,  Cuxhaven,  1895).  After  the  maturest  re- 
flection I  cannot  subscribe  to  this  judgment.  We  cannot,  indeed, 
absolutely  exclude  the  possibility  that  the  author  of  the  Axiochus  may 
here  and  there  have  attributed  a  thought  or  a  shred  of  a  thought  to 
the  old  sophist  without  due  right.  But  he  who  will  carefully  read  the 
chief  passages — the  review  of  the  various  stages  of  life  and  the  simile 
of  death  as  a  creditor — first  in  the  Axiochus,  and  then  in  its  alleged 
"  sources,"  and  will  weigh  them  against  one  another,  he  will  not 
be  able  to  resist  the  impression  that  the  style  of  the  pseudo-Platonic 
dialogue  bears  the  stamp  of  complete  originality.  In  it,  for 
example,  the  successive  extinction  of  the  vital  functions,  the  partial 
death  of  single  organs  preceding  the  total  death  of  the  organism,  is 
aptly  compared  with  a  series  of  distraints,  with  the  part-payments, 
that  is  to  say,  wrung  by  the  impatient  creditor  to  compensate  him  for 
the  postponement  of  the  payment  in  full.  Outwardly  like,  but 
essentially  quite  different,  is  the  simile  in  Bion,  who  compares  the 
burdens  of  old  age  to  the  contrivances  hit  upon  by  a  landlord  to  relieve 
his  house  from  the  occupancy  of  a  tenant  in  arrears  ;  such  as,  ^•.;'., 
removing  the  doors  and  cutting  off  the  water.  Here  it  is  sought  to 
affect  the  uill  of  the  tenant.  His  further  stay  in  the  house  is  to  be 
made  unbearable.  And  as  the  inconsiderate  behaviour  of  the  land- 
lord corresponds  to  the  cruelty  of  nature,  so  quittim:;  the  house  in 
the  one  case  must  correspond  to  quittiia:;  life  in  the  other.  And  so 
it  actually  is.  In  the  passage  concerned,  P>ion  is  discussing  suicide  : 
in  cases  of  such  grave  affliction  he  recommends  suicide  (in  Teles,  apnd 
Stoba-.,  I'lflri/c^iuiii,  v.  67  =  iii.  46,  Wachsinuth-Hense).  Now,  the 
more  poorly  we  think  of  the  author  of  the  Axiochus — and  we  have  not 


584  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

the  least  reason  to  think  highly  of  him — -the  less  Hkely  we  are  to 
believe  that  Bion's  simile,  brilliant  in  its  way,  was  transformed  by  him 
so  cleverly,  and  was  made  to  serve  an  essentially  different  purpose. 
We  must  refrain  here  from  entering  into  further  details.  Yet,  since 
the  composition  of  the  dialogue,  however  late  we  may  date  it,  almost 
certainly  does  not  belong  to  a  time  when  the  writings  of  Prodicus, 
especially  the  Seasons,v;\\.\i  which  we  are  most  concerned,  were  already 
forgotten,  we  can  at  least  hardly  doubt  that  what  is  put  in  the  mouth 
of  Prodicus  is  in  harmony  with  the  main  character  of  his  view  of  life ; 
indeed,  it  tallies  well  with  the  conception  we  have  formed  of  him  from 
the  fable  of  Hercules,  from  some  statements  in  Plato,  and  from  the 
unassailable  testimony  of  the  dialogue  Eryxias,  which,  to  judge  by 
its  language,  is  more  ancient  than  the  Axiochus.  (I  am  gratified  to 
find  myself  in  agreement  on  this  subject  with  Zeller,  Philosophie  dcr 
Griechc/i^  i.  1124,  n.  2,  ed.  5.) 

Page  429,  1.  4.  "  Hercules  at  the  parting  of  the  ways  :  "  the  fable 
is  told  by  Xenophon,  Memorabilia,  ii.  i,  21.  On  the  Sophoclean 
model,  already  recognized  as  such  by  Athenseus  (xii.  iiiit.),  cf.  Nauck, 
Fragm.  Trag.  Gr.,  p.  209,  ed.  2.  The  subsequent  influence  of  the 
apologue  is  very  thoroughly  treated  by  Cougny,  op.  cit.,  7<)ff.  ;  some 
fresh  contributions  to  the  subject  are  added  by  Dieterich,  Nekyia,  191. 
Cougny  {ibid.,  38)  with  some  probability  interprets  "  The  Seasons  " 
(I.  13)  as  the  various  ages  of  man. 

"  Eulogy  of  agriculture"  (1.  19).  It  is  legitimate  to  infer  such  a 
purpose  from  a  reference  in  Themistius  (ra  koXo.  t^s  yeopYias,  Or.  xxx. 
p.  349,  Uindorf).  The  "  conception  of  objects  indifferent  in  them- 
selves "  (1.  34)  is  thoroughly  discussed,  and  assigned  to  Prodicus,  in  the 
pseudo-Platonic  Eryxias,  with  which  cf.  Plato,  Euthydcjnus,  279^ 

Page  430,  1.  3.  "  Origin  of  the  belief  in  gods."  On  this  the  chief 
passages  are  Philodemus,  On  Piety,  71  and  75/.  of  my  edition  (my 
restoration  of  the  text  now  completed  by  Diels,  Hermes,  xiii.  i)  ;  a 
short  sentence  from  the  same  in  Cicero,  Be  Natura  Deorum,  i.  42, 
118  ;  and  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv.  Math.,  ix.  18,  with  39  ;  52  (394,  22  ; 
399)  39>  3.nd  402,  15,  Bekker).  J.  H.  Voss  (1.  16),  Mythologische  For- 
schungeji,  i.  62  ;  and  on  Persasus  (1.  27),  cf.  Philodemus,  loc.  cit. 

Page  431,  1.  3.  Hippias  :  cf.  the  collective  account  in  C.  Miiller, 
Frag7n.  Hist.  Gr.,  ii.  59-63.  Only  No.  6  therein  deserves  the  name 
of  a  fragment  ;  it  was  handed  down  by  Clement  of  Alexandria,  Strom., 
vi.  745  (Pott.),  and  most  recently  treated  in  my  Beitrdge  ziir  Kritik 
nnd  Erkldru7ig,\v.  13/.  {Wiener  Sitzungsberichte,  1890,4th  treatise). 
His  personality  is  described  in  Plato's  Hippias  Minor,  and  in  the 
Hippias  Major  (perhaps  pseudo-Platonic).  Cf.  also  Plato,  Protagoras, 
passim;  and  Philostratus,  Vit.  Sophist.,  11  =  ii.  13/!,  Kayser.  On 
his  achievements  as  a  geometer,  Tannery,  Ponr  rhistoire  de  la  science 
Hellene,  246,  pronounces  that  "  Hippias  d'Elis  fut  un  mathematicien 
remarquable."     More  on  the  subject  in  Allman,  Greek  Geometry,  191. 


NOTES  AND  ADDITIONS.  585 

L.  B.  Alberti  (1.  34)  :  cf.  Burckhardt,  Cidtiir  dcr  Renaissance,  i. 
152.  ed.  4. 

Page  432,  1.  21.  Plutarch's  doubts  as  to  the  trustworthiness  of  the 
"  List  of  the  Olympic  Victors"  occur  in  his  Numa  (ch.  i.),  and  have 
lately  won  the  assent  of  Mahafiy,  Problems  in  Greek  History,  68  and 
225^ 

Many  valuable  remarks  on  the  positive  contents  and  the  far- 
reaching  influence  of  Hippias'  doctrines  are  afforded  by  Diimmler  in 
the  Akadejnika. 

Page  434,  §  6.  Antiphon  :  cf.  chiefly  H.  Sauppe,  De  Anliphonie 
Sophista  (Gottinger  Universitats-Programm,  1S67)  ;  next,  the  collec- 
tions of  the  fragments  in  the  Oratores  Attici,  ii.  (Zurich  edition)  ;  in 
the  appendix  to  Blass,  Antiphontis  Orationcs,  130  _^,  ed.  2.  Cf.,  also, 
Croiset  in  the  Annuaire  de  Vassociation  pour  Pencourai^enient  des 
etudes  Grecqucs,  1883,  143^ 

Page  435,  1.  5.  On  the  traces  of  a  naive  realism,  cf.  the  author's 
Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  p.  24 ;  and  on  the  "  Art  of  Consolations  "  (1.  8), 
cf.  Buresch,  Consolat.  Hist.  Crit.,  72  ff.  On  the  style  and  contents  of 
the  treatise  "On  Concord"  (1.  11),  cf.  Philostratus,  Vit.  Sophist.,  15 
(ii.  17,  Kayser)  ;  on  the  literary  characteristics  of  Antiphon  generally, 
cf.  Hermogenes,  Rhet.  Gr.,  ii.  415  (Spengel). 

Page  435,  1.  24.  We  owe  the  increase  in  new  fragments  of  Anti- 
phon to  Blass,  who,  in  the  "  Kieler  Festprogramm  "  De  Antip/ionte 
Sophista  Jamblichi  Aiictore,  1889,  has,  I  think,  adduced  convincing 
proofs  of  the  fact  that  the  Protrepticns  of  Jamblichus  (ed.  Pistelli, 
9SJf-)  contains  great  pieces  from  a  book  of  Antiphon,  and  indeed,  as 
he  might  have  ventured  to  say  without  misgiving,  from  the  book  -Kfpl 
6fiovo(as.  "  Thus  Grote  "  (1.  36) :  not  exactly  Grote  himself,  but  a 
reviewer  of  him  (the  late  Sir  William  Smith  ;  originally  in  the 
Onarter/y  Review,  clxxv.  53  ,  whose  "terse  and  perspicuous"  render- 
ing of  his  own  point  of  view  Grote  himself  quotes  with  approval. 
History  of  Greece,  vii.  80,  81  n.,  new  ed.,  10  vols.,  1888.  Cf.  Tlic 
Personal  Life  of  George  Grote,  23 1 . 

To  what  Sauppe  {op.  cit.  gff.)  has  said  of  the  influence  on  Anti- 
phon of  the  nature-philosophers  who  preceded  him,  we  may  add  that 
Fragm.  94  (Blass)  seems  reminiscent  of  Empcdoclean  doctrines.  The 
effect  of  it  is  as  follows  :  Antiphon  designates  the  present  order  of  tlie 
universe  as  "  the  now  ruling  Siao-Tao-u,"  and  this  tallies  exactly  with 
the  result  of  a  closer  investigation  of  the  remaining  fragments  of  Em- 
pedoclcs,  viz.  that  the  present  state  of  the  universe,  in  which  the  elements 
are  for  the  most  part  separated  from  one  another,  stands  under  the 
sign,  not  of  "  Friendship,"  but  of  waxing  "  Discord."  Cf.  also  Fragm. 
105  (I>lass),  where  the  sea  is  called  an  exudation,  with  the  ICmpe- 
doclean  yri%  iSpHiTa  daKanaav  (Stein,  v.  165).  Sauppe  {op.  cit.)  had 
already  treated  with  well-founded  suspicion  the  casual  remark  of 
Origen   that  the   author  of  the  'AA^Sfiai'  had  "  deposed  Providence  ' 


586  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

{Advcrsus  Cclsuni,  iv.  ch.  25).  We  entii'ely  agree  with  Sauppe's  opinion 
that  Origan  read  that  meaning  into  Antiphon's  treatise,  "  interpretando 
et  concludendo."  In  any  case,  as  Sauppe  again  observed  with  perfect 
correctness,  not  only  Fragm.  108,  but  also  80  (Blass),  point  to  the 
acknowledgment  of  a  Deity.  That  two  such  dissimilar  characters — 
the  soothsayer  and  the  aggressive  freethinker — should  here  have  been 
united  in  one  person  is  so  highly  improbable,  if  not  utterly  impossible, 
that  the  report  in  question,  in  order  to  gain  credibility,  would  have  to 
be  much  better  vouched  for.  An  ecclesiastical  writer  might  see  a 
deposing  of  Providence  in  any  nature-philosopher's  attempt  to  explain 
the  universe — especially  in  one  which  tries,  after  the  manner  of  Empe- 
docles,  to  trace  the  arrangement  of  organic  life,  and  the  purpose  it 
fulfils,  back  to  natural  causes. 

Book  III. — Chapter  VI. 

Page  438,  1.  I.  Protagoras  :  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  ch.  8.  The  few  sur- 
viving fragments  of  his  works,  as  well  as  all  the  other  information  we 
have  about  him,  are  collected  and  amply  discussed  in  Johannes  Frei, 
Quccstiones  Protagorcce,  Bonn,  1845,  and  in  A.  J.  Vitringa,  Disgnisitio 
de  Protago'ce  vita  etphilosophia,  Groningen,  1852. 

Of  Protagoras'  studies  in  natural  science  faint  but,  in  my  opinion, 
not  uncertain  traces  are  preserved.  Cf.  Cicero,  Dc  Oratorc,  iii.  32 
(128);  Dionys.  on  Isocrates,  i.  (p.  536,  Reiske)  ;  Eupolis  in  the 
Flatterers,  Fragm.  146,  147  (i.  297,  Kock). 

The  catalogue  of  his  works  in  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  55,  is  not  even  a 
complete  list  of  the  "  extant "  writings  {au^ofxiva  ^l^kIo.)  ;  his  meta- 
physical cJief-d'a'uvrc^  read  as  recently  as  by  Porphyry,  is  wanting 
there. 

Heraclides  of  Pontus  [apud  Diog.  Laert.,  loe.  cit.)  records  that  he 
gave  laws  to  the  Thurians  (1.  21).  My  conjectural  account  in  the  text 
of  the  nature  of  that  legislation  was  more  fully  advanced  in  my  con- 
tribution to  the  Beitrdge  ziir  Geschichte  dcs  griecJiisclien  undrihniscJicii 
Reehts,  93  ff.,  by  Professor  Franz  Hoffmann,  my  colleague  for  juris- 
prudence (Vienna,  1870).  I  am  now  aware  that  I  was  anticipated  in 
this  by  M.  H.  E.  Meier,  Opuscnla^x.  222. 

Page  439,  1.  5.  There  is  no  tradition  that  Protagoras  actually 
visited  Thurii,  but  it  may  be  taken  as  extremely  probable.  On  the 
architecture  of  the  city,  cf.  Diodorus,  xii.  10  ;  on  Hippodamus  there  are 
proofs  in  Schiller,  De  Rebus  Thiirioniin,  4.  Apollodorus,  in  extant 
verses  of  his  Chronicle  (Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  52),  relates  that  Empedocles 
(1.  9)  stayed  at  Thurii  soon  after  its  foundation.  Herodotus,  whom 
Aristotle  {R/ict.,  iii.  9)  calls  a  Thurian,  is  generally  known  to  have 
resided  there. 

On  "the  division  of  the  citizens  into  ten  provinces"  (1.  11),  cf. 
Diodorus,  xii.  1 1. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  58/ 

The   fragment    on    Pericles    (1.    26)    is    in    Plutarch,    Consol.   ad 
Apollon.,  33, 

Page  440,  1.  10.  An  equestrian  statue  discovered  at  Eleusis  has 
been  identified,  with  a  high  degree  of  probability,  as  that  of  the  accuser 
of  Protagoras  {ci.  Bruckner,  in  A  then.  Mitt.,  xiv.  398_^  ;  to  the  contrary, 
Kaibel,  Stilimd  Text  der  iroKirela  'AdTjvalwv,  186).  In  the  statement  that 
this  Pythodorus  was  one  of  the  Four  Hundred  (Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  54),  I, 
in  common  with  some  others,  recognize  merely  a  more  exact  designa- 
tion of  the  person  of  the  accuser,  not  of  the  date  of  the  accusation. 
For  it  is  scarcely  probable  that  in  this  brief  oligarchic  interregnum 
(411  B.C.)  the  law-courts  would  have  been  at  work  and  500  Heliasts 
have  been  convoked — this,  as  shown  by  the  trial  of  Socrates,  being 
the  number  required  in  a  charge  of  aarffffia.  But  far  weightier  reasons 
remain  to  contradict  that  assumption.  Plato,  in  his  dialogue  Prota- 
goras, 317  C,  puts  these  words  into  the  sophist's  mouth  :  "  There  is  no 
one  here  present  of  whom  I  might  not  be  the  father  "  (Jowett).  Here 
Plato,  who  on  this  occasion  had  no  reason  whatever  to  confuse 
chronology,  must  first  of  all  have  thought  of  Socrates.  Now  Socrates, 
who  died  in  399  B.C.,  can  hardly  have  been  born  later  than  471  (for  the 
reading  -KKdw  ffiSo/x-fiKovra  in  the  Apology,  17  D,  may  be  taken  as  unas- 
sailable), but  likewise  not,  indeed,  much  earlier  ;  otherwise  the  round 
number  of  70  years  would  be  inadmissible  in  the  Crito,  52  E.  Thus 
we  arrive  at  the  year  485,  or  still  more  probably,  at  486  or  487,  for  the 
birth  of  Protagoras.  This  date  also  accords  with  that  of  the  Thurian 
legislation  (443),  which  could  not  well  have  been  entrusted  to  Prota- 
goras until  he  had  established  by  long  practice  a  considerable  reputa- 
tion as  a  sophist,  and  wc  know  that  he  was  about  30  when  he  took  up 
the  profession  (cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  56  ;  Plato,  Meiio,  91  E).  Now, 
since  ApoUodorus  represents  him  as  living  to  the  age  of  70  ("  about 
70,"  says  Plato,  Meiio,  91  E),  it  is  necessary  to  place  his  death,  which 
is  said  to  have  followed  immediately  on  the  accusation,  a  few  years — 
say,  five  or  six — before  411.  Hence,  then,  it  becomes  possible  for  us 
to  apply  to  Protagoras  those  verses  from  the  PaUvncdes  of  Euripides 
(Fragm.  588,  Nauck,  ed.  2)  in  which  even  in  antiquity  an  allusion  was 
correctly  perceived  (Laert.  Diog.,  ii.  44),  but  was  incorrectly  applied 
to  the  death  of  Socrates,  who  was  executed  16  years  after  the  produc- 
tion of  the  play.  Another  di;dectician,  Zeno,  was  also  compared  witli 
Palamcdes  (Plato,  Pho'drus,  261  D),  for,  says  the  scholiast,  he  was 
■iTaviTvi(TTniJ.(,iv.  And  the  words  of  Xenophon  {Meinor.,  iv.  2,  33)  show 
how  closely  in  this  respect  he  recalled  that  mythical  personage  :  ro'vrov 
ykp  Si)  irivTfs  vixvovcriv  is  5ia  (Tof^nav  (pQi)vr\Q(ls  .  .  .  awwAtTu.  It  remains  a 
moot  question  whether  or  not  the  poet  also  alluded  to  his  dead  friend 
in  his  Ix/on  (Philochorus  a/>ud  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  55). 

Page  441,  §  2.  Of  the  fra^mients  relating  to  education,  tlic  first 
two  are  to  be  found  in  .Stoba  iis,  Plorilcgiinii,  29,  80  (iii.  652,  llcnse), 
and   Cramer,  A  need.  Par.,  i.    174.      The  third   was  recovered   lately 


588  NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS. 

(Biicheler  and  Gildemeister  in  the  Rhein.  Muscicvi,  xxvii,  526^)  from 
the  Syriac  translation  of  pseudo-Plutarch's  treatise,  inpX  acrKria-ecas, 
published  by  Lagarde  in  1858.  As  I  was  writing  this  [1894]  I  was 
informed  by  the  kind  offices  of  Diels  of  a  new  alleged  fragment  of 
Protagoras  relating  to  education,  published  in  Sachau's  Inedita 
Syriaca,  praef ,  v.  The  empty  verbiage  of  this  oration  hardly  admits 
the  thought  of  genuineness,  the  less  so  since  a  similar  fragment  which 
is  preserved  there,  and  which  flaunts  the  name  of  Anaxagoras,  looks 
even  more  unlike  the  work  of  the  sage  of  Clazomenae  than  this  of  the 
sage  of  Abdera. 

Page  442,  1.  II.     On  the  linguistic  studies  of  Protagoras,  cf  Laert. 
Diog.,  ix.  52,  53  ;  Aristotle,  Poetics,  ch.  19  ;  Rhetoric,  iii.  5  :  Sop/iist. 
Elcnch.,  ch.    14 ;    and   the   gibes    in    Aristophanes,    Clotids,   658  _^ 
(Meineke).      On  Protagoras  as   an   adherent  of  the  "conventional" 
heory  of  language  (1.  29),  cf.  my  Apologic  der  Heilkunst,  ii\  ff. 
Page  444,  1.  36.     The  three  words  are  0copa|,  ■nop-wa.l,  and  crrvpa^. 
Pages   445-448,    §   3.     Cf.    the   list  of  writings   in    Laert.  Diog., 
ix.  55. 

For  the  following  story,  cp.  Plutarch,  Life  of  Pericles,  ch.  36 
(Stesimbrotus  is  named  as  the  authority  in  the  next  sentence). 

On  lawsuits  against  animals,  cf.  chiefly  Karl  von  Amira,  Tierstrafen 
mid  Tierprocessc,  in  the  Proceedings  of  the  Institut  fiir  ostreichische 
Geschichts-Forschung,  xii.  545  J^  ;  also  the  newspaper  ^7^^7a«c/,  1869, 
477  ff.  ;  Miklosich,  Die  Blntrache  bei  den  Slaven,  p.  7  (from  the  Wiener 
Denkschriften,  1887) ;  Tylor,  Prifnitive  Culture,  i.  259  ;  Zend-Avesta,  i. 
{Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  iv.)  159 ;  Rhein.  Museum,  xli.  130/. ;  finally, 
Sorel,  Proces  contre  les  animaux,  etc.,  16  (Compiegne,  1877).  Hegel's 
remark  is  in  his  Geschichte  der  Philosophic,  ii.  27,  ed.  2  {Werke,  xiv.). 
The  passage  from  Plato  is  in  the  Protagoras,  324  B. 

Pages  448-450,  §  4.  The  first  sentence  of  Protagoras'  book  on  the 
gods  is  in  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  51. 

Lobeck's  hint :  Protagoras  was  "  accused  of  Atheism  because  he 
denied  the  cognizability  of  God  through  the  reason  "  (A.  Lehnerdt, 
Ausivahl  aus  Lobecks  akademischcn  Rcdeu,  189). 

On  his  mode  of  settling  his  honorarium,  cf.  Plato,  Protagoras,  328 
B.C.,  and  Aristotle,  Nicoin.  Ethics,  ix.  i  (where,  however,  the  oath  is 
not  mentioned). 

On  a.^7)\6rris  (obscurity,  want  of  perceptibility),  cf.  Gomperz, 
Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  143  ;  also  the  use  of  acpavh  as  practically 
equivalent  to  ^StjAoj/. 

Renan's  words  are  taken  from  his  Feuilles  Detachdes,  pp.  xvi.y^ 
Page  450,  1.  25.  The  three  titles  of  the  chief  work  of  Protagoras 
occur  in  Porphyry  {apud  Euseb.,  Prap.  Evang.,  x.  3  =  ii.  463, 
Gaisford)  ;  in  Plato,  TJiecBtetus,  161  C  ;  and  in  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv. 
Math.,  vii.  560  =  202,  27,  Bekker.  The  chief  passage  is  quoted  in  the 
Thecetetus,  152  A,  and  in  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  51. 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  589 

Page  451,1.  23.  Goethe:  in  Riemer,  Brief c  von  mid  an  Goethe 
("Aphorisms"),  p.  316. 

The  author  has  discussed  the  meaning  of  the  phrase  exhaustively 
in  his  Apologie  der  Ha'lkjinst,  pp.  26^  His  predecessors  in  prefer- 
ring the  generic  interpretation  of  "  man  "  are  :  Peipers,  Die  Erkciuit- 
tiisstheorie  Platos,  \\ff.;  Laas,  Neuerc  Untersuchungen  'iiber  P?-otagoras 
(in  the  Vierteljahrschrift  fiir  wissenschaftliche  Philosophic,  viii.  479  fif.)  ; 
and  Halbfass,  Die  Bcrichte  des  Plaioti  tind  Aristoteles  'iibcr  Protagoras 
.  .  .  kritiscJi  nntersueht  {xn  Fleckeisen's  Jahrbitcher,  Suppl.,  xiii.  18S2). 
The  author's  arguments  were  partly  strengthened  and  partly  modified 
by  \V.  Jerusalem,  Zjir  Deutiing  des  Homo-  Mensitra-  Satscs  ("  Eranos 
Vindobonensis,"  153  Jf.)  ;  he  is,  however,  mistaken  in  attributing 
the  generic  interpretation  to  Grote  likewise.  So  far  was  Grote 
from  this,  that  he  even  incorporated  the  individualistic  interpre- 
tation in  his  translation  of  the  tenet :  "  As  things  appear  to  me,  so 
they  are  to  me  :  as  they  appear  to  you,  so  they  are  to  you  "  (Grote, 
Plato,  ii.  323). 

Page  455,  1.  13.  Aristotle,  Metap/iys.,  iii.  997  B  35  to  998  A  4. 
The  quotation  from  Mill  (1.  20)  refers  to  his  Logic,  vol.  i.  bk.  ii. 
ch.  5,  §§  I,  6.  Cf  Sir  John  Herschel,  Essays,  p.  216  ;  Helmholtz,  in  the 
Academy,  i.  \2Z  ff.  (12  Feb.,  1870),  and  Populdre  Aii/sdtze,  3rd  series, 
p.  26. 

Page  458,1.38,  "In  a  dream:"  Thecetetiis,  101  D.  Out  of  the 
voluminous  Theietetus-literature  the  following  may  be  specially 
selected  :  Schleiermacher's  Eiii/eitnng;  Bonitz,  Piatonische  Studieu, 
2nd  ed.,  with  special  reference  to  pp.  46-53  ;  Dtimmler,  Antistheiiiea, 
pp.  56^,  and  Akademica,  pp.  \li\ff- 

Page  460,  1.  22.  Timon  :  Fragm.  48  [Corp.  -poes.  ep.  Gr.  liidibiind(e, 
ii.  163).  Aristotle  (1.  38),  Mctaph.,  1007  B,  12.  ff.  ;  1009  A,  6  ff.  ; 
1053  A  35. 

Page  461,  1.  4.  IMato,  Cratyliis,  386  A.  Judged  by  the  standard  of 
language,  the  Cratylus  is  not  later,  but — however  little — earlier,  than 
the  Thcatettis  (cp.  Dittenberger,  Hermes,  xvi.  321  Jf.,  and  Schanz, 
ibid.,  xxi.  442  to  449).  This  circumstance  will  in  all  likelihood  be 
urged  against  the  view  of  the  Thcictctus  advanced  on  pp.  458, 459  of  our 
text.  But,  apart  from  the  fact  that  the — probably  inconsiderable — 
distance  of  time  between  the  two  dialogues  docs  not  exclude  the 
possibility  that  I'lato  was  already  busy  with  the  Thea'tetiis  when  he 
published  the  Cratylus;  apart  from  this,  and  other  like  possibilities,  I 
have  in  no  wise  maintained  that  the  scheme  of  the  Thecrtetus  stood 
alone  in  permitting  its  author  to  expound  the  homo-mensura  tenet  in 
the  individualistic  form  which  he  there  preferred.  It  was  the  most  suit- 
able place  for  it,  because  that  exposition  helped  to  smooth  the  way  for 
the  extensive  account  of  the  fictitious  Protagorean  theory  of  cognition. 
Still,  there  was  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  introducing  and  casually 
mentioning  it,  as  he  actually  does  in  the  Cratylus.  in  any  other  place  ; 


590  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

in  none,  however,  does  the  historical  figure  of  Protagoras  appear  in 
as  strong  a  light  as  in  the  dialogue  that  bears  his  name.  I  have 
already  willingly  admitted  that  this  interpretation  can  be  drawn  as  a 
deduction  from  the  statement,  directly  contained  in  the  words  of 
Protagoras,  that  every  perception  has  an  objective  reality  as  its  basis. 
And  I  shall  be  equally  willing  to  admit  that  the  subjective  theory  is 
directly  contained  in  that  statement,  and  that  the  intention  of  the 
sophist  was  directed  thereto,  as  soon  as  any  one  has  confuted  my 
arguments  against  the  traditional  acceptation  of  the  tenet.  This, 
however,  no  one  of  my  critics  has  as  yet  even  attempted  to  do.  For 
the  rest,  cp.  to  the  close  of  §  5,  my  Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  ij'^-iyS.  It 
is  highly  deplorable  that  we  depend  for  our  information  anent  the 
polemic  of  Democritus  against  Protagoras  solely  on  an  isolated  notice 
in  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv.  Mathcm.,  vii.  389  (p.  275,  Bekker).  On  this, 
cp.  Apologie  dcr  Hcilkti7ist,  176.  We  may  add  that  Plato  {Entity de- 
rmis., 286  C),  in  referring  the  doctrine  (of  Antisthenes)  that  there  is  no 
auTL\e'Y€Lv  back  to  Protagoras  "and  others  yet  more  ancient,"  can 
hardly  have  been  thinking  of  the  homo-mensura  tenet,  which  is, 
on  the  contrary,  always  represented  as  striking  astonishment  by 
its  novelty.  In  conclusion,  we  may  point  to  the  paraphrase  by 
Hermias,  Irrisio  Gcjit.  Philos.,  c.  9  (Doxogr.  Gr.,  653),  which  agrees 
almost  exactly  with  the  view  we  have  taken  :  TVpwTaySpas  .  .  .  (pdaKcau  • 

opoi  Kcii  Kpiffis  rSiV  TtpayfxaTwv  6  Av^panros,  Ka\  ra.  fxiv  vTroirlirTovTa  rals 
alcrdrjcrecrtv  ^cttlv  'irpdy/j.aTa,  ra  5e  jxt]  tiiroTrinTOvra  ovk  icmv  iv  to7s  e^Secri  rrjs 
ovfflas.     On  this  also,  cp.  Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  174. 

Page  462,  §  6.  "Two  Speeches:"  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  51; 
Euripides,  Fragm.  189,  Nauck,  ed.  2  ;  Isocrates,  Orat.  10,  inii. 
Seneca  {Epist.  Moral.,  88,  43  =  iii.  254,  Haase)  is  alone  in  having 
understood  the  sentence  as  if  the  two  \6yoi  were  of  equal  value.  This, 
however,  as  already  perceived  by  Bernays  {Rhcin.  Mus.,  vii.  467),  is 
by  no  means  implied  in  the  text  of  the  utterance.  The  doctrine,  we 
may  add,  belongs  to  Arcesilaus  (cf.  Euseb.,  Prap.  Evang.,  14,  4  = 
iii.  430,  Gaisford). 

Page  463.  The  four  quotations  on  this  page  will  be  found  in 
Diderot,  CEuvres  Completes  (ed.  Ass^zat),  ii.  120  ;  Alexander  Bain, 
yohn  Stuart  Mill:  a  Criticism  (1882),  p.  104;  Mill's  own  Disserta- 
tions and  Discussions  (1867),  iii.  331  ;  and  Goethe,  Gesprdche  mil 
Eckerviaim  (3rd  ed.),  i.  241. 

Page  464,  1.  18.  Aristoxcnus  :  cf.  Laert.  Diog.,  iii.  37  ;  discussed 
more  exhaustively  in  my  Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  184  f.  Timon 
(1.  33)  :  Fragm.  10  {op.  cit.,  p.  109). 

Though  Laert.  Diog.,  ix.  55,  ascribes  to  Protagoras  a  te'xj'?;  IpiaTiKwv, 
and,  in  §  51,  adds  to  the  sentence  about  the  Sw  \6yoL  the  remark  oh  kw. 
irvv-qpiiiTa,  yet  neither  the  one  statement  nor  the  other  can  yield  us  a 
conception  of  the  Protagorean  dialectic  different  from  that  which  the 
Platonic  dialogue  supplies.     Nobody  ever  called  himself  an  Eristic  ; 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  59 1 

the  term  remained  at  all  times  one  of  disparagement  (cf.  Isocrates, 
Orat.  \o,inii.,ol  irtpl  tcls  fpiSas  ^Larpi^ovres)  ;  SO  that  the  above-mentioned 
title  of  his  book  cannot  have  been  of  Protagoras'  own  choosing.  But 
if  the  book — doubtless  his  rex^v,  or  text-book  of  Rhetoric — showed  a 
great  dexterity  in  argument,  and  gave  instruction  in  the  art  of  making 
speeches  for  and  against  a  thesis,  this  was  ground  enough  for  our 
compiler,  or  rather  for  his  authorities,  to  bestow  that  designation 
upon  it. 

Page  466,  1.  2.  In  calling  the  Sophistcs  of  Plato  "  one  of  his  latest 
dialogues,"  I  find  myself  in  agreement  with  the  great  majority  of 
modern  Platonic  scholars.  Yet,  since  so  great  an  authority  as  Zeller 
opposes  this  conclusion,  I  should  certainly  not  omit  to  establish  it 
here,  were  it  not  that  a  later  volume  of  this  work  will  be  infinitely 
better  suited  for  that  purpose.  Accordingly,  at  this  point  I  shall 
merely  express  my  conviction  that  in  the  whole  range  of  Platonic 
inquiry  nothing  has  been  more  triumphantly  established  than  the 
chronology  of  the  writings  classed  as  ii.  b  by  Dittenberger  {Hermes, 
xvi.  326)  ;  cf.  now  especially  Prof.  Lewis  Campbell,  PIati)'s  Republic, 
ii.  46 j^  .^Oxford,  1894). 

Page  466,  §  7.  The  passage  herein  discussed  of  the  Platonic 
SopJiistes  (232  D)  was  differently  taken  and  rendered  by  me  in  the 
Apohgie  der  HeilJciiiist,  181  /.  Since  then  I  have  been  happy  to 
avail  myself  of  the  learning  of  my  reviewers,  and  of  several  private 
correspondents,  and  to  admit  that  my  then  interpretation,  which 
agreed  with  Campbell's  and  Jowett's.  was  wrong.  The  context  forces 
us  to  the  conviction  that  we  must  make  the  best  of  the  somewhat  harsh 
hyperbaton  (in  the  position  of  ai-ToV).  This  is  the  sole  point  on  which 
I  have  considered  myself  obliged  to  modify  the  statements  contained 
in  that  book  of  mine  which  has  been  so  frequently  mentioned.  It  is 
likewise  my  firm  conviction  that  the  removal  of  this  sorry  prop  has 
not  in  any  way  damaged  the  structure  of  argument  which  is  therein 
built  up.  As  to  the  other  contents  of  this  paragraph,  I  must  again 
refer  to  the  Apol.  dc?-  Ileilkunst,  where  the  present  hints  are  more 
fully  developed. 

Page  471,  §  8.     Aristotle:  Rhetoric,  ii.  i\Jlii. 

For  what  follows,  cf  Plato,  Apoloi^y,  23  D  ;  and  Isocrates,  Orat. 
15,  §§  16  and  32.  Cf  also  the  excellent  remarks  of  Grote,  History  of 
Greece,  vii.  46  ;/.  (10  vols.,  1888),  where  he  decisively  condemns  the  use 
commonly  made  of  the  Aristophanic  burlesque,  in  which  the  5^/caioy  and 
the  &^LKos  K6yos  are  introduced  as  speakers  :  "  If  Aristophanes  is  a  witness 
against  any  one,  he  is  a  witness  against  Sokratcs,  wlio  is  the  person 
singled  out  for  attack  in  the  '  Clouds.'  But  these  authors  [Rilter  and 
Brandis  are  named  in  the  text],  not  admitting  Aristophanes  as  an 
evidence  against  Sokratcs  whom  he  docs  attack,  nevertheless  quote 
him  as  an  evidence  against  men  like  Protagoras  and  Gorgias  whom 
he  does  not  attack." 


592  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

On  what  follows,  cf.  especially  Aristotle,  Rhetoric,  i.  i  (1355  A,  B)  ; 
Plato,  Gorgias,  456  D  ;  Sextus  Emp.,  Adv.  Math.,  ii.  44  (683,  22^, 
Bekker)  ;  Philodemus,  in  his  rhetorical  writings,  passim  (the  passages 
are  discussed  by  the  author  of  this  work  in  the  Zeitschrift  f'l'ir  die 
Oestr.  Gyinnasien,  1866,  p.  698)  ;  Chrysippus,  in  Plutarch,  De  Stoic. 
Repugn.,  c.  10,  15  {=  Moralia,  268,  37  ff.,  Diibner)  ;  finally,  Aris- 
totle, Rhetoric,  ii.  26  init.  ;  iii.  \Zfin. 

Page  473,  1.  12.  Aristotle:  Rhetoric,  i.  i  fin.  ;  further,  cp.  above, 
notes  to  pp.  448-450  ;  and  Plato,  Protagoras,  351  D.  On  Protagoras 
as  "  a  teacher  of  rhetoric  "  (1.  y]),  cp.  the  evidence  in  Frei,  Quccst. 
Protag.,  pp.  150^ 

Page  474,  1.  24.     Quintilian  :  Inst.  Orat.,  ii.  i,  12. 


Book  III. — Chapter  VII. 

Page  476,  §  I.  The  life  of  Gorgias  had  been  treated  by  Hermippus 
and  Clearchus  in  their  biographies  (Athenasus,  xi.  505  D,  and  xii. 
548  D).  Trustworthy  data  are  now  lacking  concerning  his  birth  and 
death.  We  may  believe  Apollodorus  {apud  Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  58)  that 
he  lived  to  be  109  years  old.  He  survived  Socrates  (Plato,  Apology, 
19  E),  and  spent  his  last  years  in  Thessaly,  where  (according  to 
Pausanias,  vi.  17,  9)  he  enjoyed  the  favour  of  Jason  of  Phers,  who 
ascended  the  throne  circ.  380.  By  far  the  greatest  part  of  his  long  life, 
however,  evidently  falls  in  the  fifth  century,  so  that  at  the  time  of  his 
appearance  as  an  envoy  in  Athens  (Diodorus,  xii.  53)  he  was  already 
approaching  old  age.  Diels,  in  his  Gorgias  und  Empedocles,  p.  3, 
holds  "  firmly  to  Frei's  delimitation,  483-375  "  {Rhein.  Museum,  New 
Series,  vii.  S'i'jff.).  Von  Wilamowitz  not  improbably  fixes  his  Olympic 
oration  in  the  summer  of  408  {Aristotcles  und  Athen,  i.  172).  He  is 
treated  most  fully,  though  not  without  an  admixture  of  anachronisms 
(cf.  Apologie  der  Heilkunst,  171/),  by  Philostratus,  Vitce  Sophist.,  c. 
9  ;  and,  in  modern  times,  by  Blass,  Attische  Bcredsamkeit,  i.  47  ff., 
ed.  2.  The  fragments  are  collected  in  Oratorcs  Attici,  ii.  129  j^ 
Bernays  [Rhcin.  Museum,  New  Series,  viii.  432)  has  added  the 
fragment  of  the  Olympic  oration  preserved  by  Clement  of  Alexandria, 
Strom,  i.  ch.  1 1  (346,  Potter). 

On  the  ridicule  of  Thrasymachus  (1.  17)  in  the  i^anaJK^Is  of 
Aristophanes,  see  Kock,  Atticorum  Comicorum  Fragmenta,  i.  439. 

Page  477,  1.  7.  The  last  words  of  Gorgias  are  in  yElian,  Var. 
Hist.,  ii.  35.  The  inscription  on  the  base  of  the  Olympic  statue  (1.  15) 
is  in  Kaibel,  Epigr.  Gr.,  p.  534. 

Page  478,  1.  6.  Shakespeare,  Macbeth,  iii.  4  :  "Our  monuments 
shall  be  the  maws  of  kites."  The  two  similes  of  Gorgias  were 
censured  by  Longinus,  •n-ep:  v^ovs,  iii.  2  (p.  5,  Jahn-Vahlen). 

The    characteristics    of    the   alto   cstilo   (1.    37)    are   taken   from 


NOTES  AND   ADDITIONS.  593 

Landmann's  essay,  Shakspere  and  Euphnisjn,  in  the  Transactions  of 
the  New  Shakspere  Society,  Series  I.,  1880-86,  p.  250. 

Page  479,  1.  8.  "  FalstaflPs  speech  : "  Henry  IV.,  Pt.  /.,  ii.  4. 
This  passage,  which  we  follow  Brandes  ( William  Shakespeare,  A 
Critical  Study,  i.  53)  in  selecting  as  characteristic,  is  likewise  quoted 
by  Landmann  (ibid.).  The  reader  will  note  the  alliteration  with 
^rink,  /ears,  pleasure,  passion,  7i/ords,  woes. 

Page  479,  1.  27.  In  rejecting  the  two  declamations  that  have 
come  down  under  the  name  of  Gorgias,  I  follow  Leonhard  Spengel's 
demonstration  {Artium  Scriptores,  72,  ff.),  which  has  been  frequently 
ignored  but  never  confuted;  cp.  my  Apologic  dcr  Heilkunst,  165/, 
and  Von  Wilamowitz,  Aristoteles  und  AtJien.,  i.  172. 

Page  481,  1.  5.  On  the  relation  of  Gorgias  to  Empedocles,  cp. 
Satyrus,  apud  Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  58,  and  Diels'  illuminating  discussion 
in  his  Gorgias  itnd  Empedocles,  to  which  such  frequent  reference  has 
been  made. 

The  "  little  work  which  used  to  be  ascribed  to  Aristotle  "  (1.  30) 
has  been  best  and  most  recently  edited  by  Apelt  in  the  collection 
Aristotelis  qucc  feriinttir  de  plantis,  etc.,  Leipsic,  1888.  Our  note  on 
page  155,  supra,  should  be  consulted  at  this  point.  It  is  absolutely 
out  of  the  question  to  regard  this  treatise  as  the  work  even  of  Theo- 
phrastus,  to  whom  the  Vatican  MS.  ascribes  it,  and  to  whom 
Simplicius — elsewhere  so  well  informed — seems  likewise  to  have 
attributed  it  {Phys.,  22,  26,  Diels)  ;  especially,  we  may  add,  on  account 
of  the  notices  it  contains  about  Anaximander  (975  B  12  ;  cp.,  too,  the 
wrong  (paffi  Tive^,  ibid.,  1.  7).  A  complement  to  the  account  in  this 
libcllus  is  furnished  by  Sextus,  Adv.  Math.,  vii.  6^  ff.  =  203  ff., 
Bekker. 

Page  483,  1.  36.  A  most  modern  parallel  to  the  second  argument 
for  the  first  thesis  of  Gorgias  is  offered  by  Mansel's  ratiocination, 
noted  in  Mill's  Examination  of  Sir  William  Hamilton'' s  Philosophy, 
p.  114,  3rd  edit. 

Page  487,  1.  23.  A  "critical  discussion"  of  the  Enipedoclean 
doctrine  formed  the  contents  of  the  ii,y\yn<m  'EfineSoKAfovs,  mentioned 
by  Suidas,  .9.7/.  Zr]ywv — as  Diels,  Gorgias  und Empcdoklcs,  17  [359],  has 
shown  to  be  in  the  highest  degree  probable. 

Page  488,  1.  10.  (jeorge  Grote  :  Plato,  i.  107  /.,  and  History  of 
Greece,  vii.  51  (10  vols.,  1888).  The  "remark"  (1.  14)  in  contradiction 
therewith  is  in  Zeller,  Philos.  dcr  Griechen,  i.  1104,  5th  edit. 

Page  489,  1.  9.  Cp.  Windelband,  Gcschichte  dcr  Philosophic,  69. 
Our  sole  authority  on  Xeniadcs  (!.  12)  is  Sextus,  Adv.  Math.,s\\.  53  = 
201,  ^ff-,  Bekker.  A  notable  parallel  occurs  in  the  Rig  Veda,  x.  72, 
3  :  "  Existence,  in  the  earliest  age  of  Gods,  from  Non-existence  sprang  " 
[Griffith,  Hymns  of  the  Rig  Veda,  ii.  486,  Benares,  2nd  edit.,  1S97. 
The  translator  is  indebted  for  this  reference  to  Mrs.  Max  Miillcr]. 

Page  491,  1.   21.     The  quotation  is  from   Plato,  Protag     334  (\ 
VOL.   I.  2    () 


594  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

The  "  earliest  experiment  in  definition  proper  "  (1.  32)  is  from  [Hippo- 
crates] Dc  Arte,  §  3  (Littr^,  vi.  4). 

Page  492,  1.  I.  Democritus  :  cp.  Mullach,  209  (from  Sextus,  Adv. 
UTath.,  vii.  265  =  248,  25,  Bekker)  :  &vdpwT:os  ia-riv  t>  navTis  XS/j.ev.  Very 
similarly  Pascal  {Peiisecs,  i.  2,  Paris  edit.,  1823,  p.  28)  :  "  Quelle 
ndcessitd  y  a-t-il  d'expliquer  ce  qu'on  entend  par  le  mot  hovwic  ?  Ne 
sait-on  pasassez  quelle  est  la  chose  qu'on  veut  designer  par  ceterme  ?" 
Genuine  attempts  at  definition  by  Democritus  and  the  Pythagoreans 
are  mentioned  by  Aristotle,  J/^/^//;.,  xiii.  4  (1078  B  19,  j^).  Autolycus 
(1.  10)  :  cp.  Antolyci  de  SpJiccra,  etc.,  edit.  Hultsch,  Leipsic,  1885, 
pp.  2  and  48.  Cp.,  too,  the  definition  of  Number  attributed  to  Thales 
in  laviblichi  in  Niconiachi  Arithni.  hitroduct.  Liber  (Pistelli,  p.  10) 
with  the  remarks  of  Hultsch,  Berlifier  PJiilologisehe  IVochenschrift, 
15  June,  1895,  column  775.  The  invaluable  fragment  of  Eudemus 
{Fragmenta  coll.  Spcngel,  113  jf.')  instructs  us  on  the  earliest  phases 
of  the  study  of  geometry,  as  likewise  the  oldest  surviving  geometrical 
demonstration  (by  Hippocrates  of  Chios,  middle  of  the  fifth  century) 
apiid  Simplic,  PJiys.,  60  ff.,  Diels.  Gorgias'  definition  of  rhetoric 
(1.  20)  :  Orator es  Attici,  ii.  130  B  18.  The  definition  of  colour  is  in 
Plato,  Mow,  76  D  (where  I,  should  defend  axtw^a-Tiav  against  Diels, 
Gorgias  mid  Evipedokles,  8,  who  otherwise  has  materially  furthered 
the  comprehension  of  the  definition). 

On  what  follows,  cp.  Plato,  Tima;iis,  67  C,  and  Philebus,  58  AJf. 
(see  Hirzel,  Hermes,  x.  254,  and  DUmmler,  Akademika.  33). 

Page  493,  1.  7.  The  oration  of  Alcidamas  "  On  the  Sophists  "  is 
now  in  the  appendix  to  Blass,  Antiphontis  Orationes,  edit.  2,  Leipsic, 
1881.     His  *u(rj/cJy  is  mentioned  by  Laert.  Diog.,  viii.  56. 

On  Polus  (1.  15)  as  a  student  of  nature,  cp.  Plato,  Gorgias,  465  D., 

On  the  tomb  of  Isocrates  (I.  20),  cp.  Pseudo-Plutarch,  Vit.x.  Oral., 
iv.  26  (1021,  43,  Diibner). 

On  Lycophron's  avoidance  of  the  copula  (1.  34),  cp.  Aristotle,  Phys., 
i.  2  (185  B  27). 

Page  494,  1.  10.  "The  Xenophontic  Socrates"  :  Mcmor..  i.  i,  14, 
and  iv.  7,  ^ff. 


Book  III.— Chapter  VIII. 

Pages  497,  498.  The  fragments  of  the  historians  here  mentioned 
are  to  be  found  in  C.  Miiller's  Fragmenta  Historicorinii  Gra:coritin. 

On  Stesimbrotus,  cf.  Heuer's  Mimsterer  Dissertation  (1863),  supple- 
mented now  by  fresh  fragments  in  Philodemus,  Oft  Piety,  pp.  22,  41/., 
45  of  my  edition. 

On  the  oldest  historical  writings  on  literature  and  m.usic,  cf.  Hiller, 
Rlieinisches  Mjcscuju,  xli.  401. 

Page  498,  1.  2.     The  "  thought '"'  uttered   by  Democritus  is  from 


NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS.  595 

Philodemus,  Dc  Musica,  col.  36  (Kemke,  p.  108),  with  which  cf.  Plato, 
Criiias,  no  A,  and  Aristotle,  Alctaphys.,  981  B,  20. 

On  the  earliest  chronological  publications,  cf.  Unger,  in  I  wan 
Miiller's  Handbuch  dcr  Klassischen  Al/criinnswisscnsch.,  i.  573. 

Page  499.  Here  we  would  especially  refer  to  the  brilliant  and 
thoughtful  University  Festival  Oration  by  the  late  Rudolf  Scholl, 
whom  learning  lost  too  soon  :  Die  Anfdngc  ciiicr politiscJicii  Litter atiir 
hei  deji  Griechen  (Munich,  1890).  Yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  assent 
to  Scholl's  view  of  the  "Constitution  of  Athens,"  and  I  contest  it  on 
page  500. 

Page  502,  1.  24.  The  "accursed  Demos"  is  mentioned  in  the 
epitaph  on  Critias,  in  the  scholia  to  yEschines,  Adv.  Timarch.,  39 
{Oratores  Attici,n.  1$). 

Page  502,  §  3.  The  year  424  B.C.  was  fixed  as  the  date  of  publi- 
cation of  the  treatise  "  On  the  Constitution  of  Athens,"  by  Kirchhoff, 
Die  Abfassinigszeit  der  Schrift  vom  Staatc  der  Athene)-  (Akademie- 
Abhandlung),  Berlin,  1878.  Xenophon's  claim  to  ih&" \drtva.iwv  iroXiTiia, 
formerly  included  in  his  works,  is  now  very  properly  disallowed,  but 
no  other  known  author  has  as  yet  been  allowed  to  have  even  a  pre- 
sumptive claim  to  it. 

Page  503,  1.  12.  Scholl,  op.  cit.,  has  some  excellent  remarks  on 
Thucydides'  methods  of  historical  research  ;  likewise  Kohler,  "  Ueber 
die  Archiiologie  des  Thukydides,"  in  Commentationes  Afoniviseniance, 
ZT^ff-  There  is  a  brilliantly  correct  utterance,  too,  in  Scherer,  Poetil:. 
p.  67. 

Page  504,  1.  6.  "  A  pupil  of  Anaxagoras."  To  this  notice  of 
Marcellinus,  §  22  (Kiuger's  edition,  ii.  194),  K.  O.  Miillcr  adds  the 
pertinent  remark  :  ''  We  may  justly  regard  him  as  the  Anaxagoras  of 
history"  {History  of  the  Literature  of  Ancient  Greece,  continued  by 
J.  W.  Donaldson,  London,  1858,  ii.  132). 

The  quotation  immediately  preceding,  and  those  following  on 
pages  ^o\ff.,  are  from  Thucydides,  i.  23  ;  Herodotus,  i.  i  ;  Thucydides, 
i.  22  ;  i.  20  ;  ii.  15  (very  similar  with  respect  to  method  is  Aristotle's 
discussion,  Constitution  of  Athens,  c.  3);  i.  5,  6. 

Page  506,  1.  34.  Cf.  Odyssey,  iii.  73,  and  Aristarchus  in  the 
scholia. 

Page  507, 1.  34.  For  Hellcn,  the  ancestor  of  the  Hellenic  race,  see 
Thucydides,  i.  3  ;  Ion  as  an  historical  personage,  Aristotle,  Constitu- 
tion of  Atliens,  c.  3.     On  what  follows,  cf.  Thr.cydidcs,  i.  1-19. 

Pages  510,  511.  Cf.  Thucydides,  ii.  54  (oracle  about  the  plague)  ; 
ii.  17  (Pelasgic  field)  ;  v.  103  (superstition  denounced)  ;  v.  26  (duration 
of  the  war)  ;  i.  23  (ominous  natural  occurrences)  ;  ii.  8  (carthtjuakc  at 
Delos)  ;  i.  21  (the  word  "  mythical  "). 

I'ages  512,  513.  Cf  Thucydides,  ii.  28  (eclipse  of  the  sun)  ;  vii.  50 
(eclipse  of  the  moon)  ;  vii.  79  (thunderstorm)  ;  iii.  89  (flood)  ;  iv.  24 
(Charybdis)  ;  ii.  102  (Achclous)  ;  ii.  47^  (description  of  the  plague'  ; 


596  NOTES   AND   ADDITIONS. 

vii.  44  (the  course  of  a  battle)  ;  iv.  ii8/.,  v.  i8/.,  23/.,  47,  77,  79 
(documentary  evidence  of  treaties,  apart  from  those  contained  in  the 
probably  unfinished  book,  viii.  ;  of  these,  v.  47  has  been  re-discovered 
as  an  inscription  ;  v.  jj  and  79  are  in  the  Doric  dialect;  cf.  now 
Kirchhoff,  Thnkydides  und  sem  Urkuitdenmaterial,  Berlin,  1895); 
vii.  II  (report  of  a  general,  viz.  Nicias)  ;  i.  22  (characterization  of  the 
speeches). 

Pages  514,  515.  Cf.  Thucydides,  vi.  Zff.  (speeches  of  Nicias  and 
Alcibiades)  ;  ii.  35  ff.  (funeral  oration  of  Pericles)  ;  i.  86  (speech  of 
Sthenelaidas)  ;  iii.  45  (Diodotus  against  the  deterrent  theory). 

Pages  516,  517.  Cf.  Thucydides,  vii.  69  (speech  of  Nicias  before 
the  decisive  battle)  ;  iii.  38  (Cleon's  censorious  speech). 

Page  518.  Cf.  Thucydides,  iv.  40  (Cleon's  "  mad  "  promise)  ;  vii. 
86  (lament  on  the  death  of  Nicias)  ;  iii.  83  ("  simplicity  "  of  heart :  t^ 

€v7]8es  oil  rh  yevvalov  irXfia'TOV  |U6T6;^6i). 


INDEX. 


X.  13. —  The  Xotcs  and  Additions  in  this  volume  {pp.  521-596)  refer  to  the  Text 
(pp.  3-519)  by  page  and  line  (or  section).  Thus,  in  the  Index,  '■'■  ]\Iap- 
making,  49,"  for  example,  carries  zvith  it  a  reference,  not  merely  to  p.  49  in 
the  Texty  but  like-d'isc  to  "  Page  49,  /.  30  "  in  the  Notes  and  Additions,  to 
be  found  on  p.  533.  hi  the  majority  of  instatices  this  seco9id  paginal 
reference  has,  accordingly,  been  omitted.  The  standard  writers  and  their 
7i.'orks  mentioned  by  the  author  in  the  Notes  have  not  been  enumerated  in 
the  Index,  except  iti  cases  where  he  distinguishes  them  by  special  acknowledg- 
ment or  repeated  use. — L.M. 


Abdera,  317 

Absolutism    versus    social     contract 

doctrine,    391    /.  ;    dictum    of     a 

modern  champion,  406 
"  Achilles  and  the  Tortoise,"  i9SM-i 

555 

Acropolis,  506 

Acusilaus,  91 

.l'",gospotami  meteorite,  218 

/lOschines,  426 

.Kschylus,  97,  131,  441 

Ai^amcmnon's  tomb,  32 

Agriculture,  387 

Alt)erti,  Leone  IJattista,  431 

Alcibiades,  407,  426,  437,  514 

Alcidamas,  403,  493  ;  sources,  576 

Alcmseon(jf  Croton,  147;  physiology, 
148  ;  doctrine  of  the  senses,  149  ; 
psychology,  150  f.  ;  conclusion, 
152;  and  I'armcnides,  183;  in- 
fluence on  Knipedocles,  230,  235  ; 
and  corpus  Ilippocrat.,  2S2  ;  as 
physician,  285  ;  and  the  brain,  313  ; 
his  and  the  Indian  theories  of 
vision,  549 

Alexander,  1 20,  422 

Alexandrian  savants,  5(36 

Allegorical  method,  375,  379/1 

Altruism,  133 

Aminia^,  167 

Am])hipolis,  siege  of,  5*^3 

Anaxagoras,  and  I'armcnides,  172  ; 
born  at  Clazomen;e,  208  ;  residence 


in  Athens,  209  ;  doctrine  of  matter, 
210;  countless  "seeds,"  211  f., 
yi\,  378  ;  his  cosmogony,  214  ; 
agency  of  "  Nous,"  215  ;  criticism 
of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  216  ;  the 
sun  "an  ignited  stone,"  217  ;  anti- 
cipates principles  of  modern  astro- 
nomy, 218  ;  explains  sujieriority 
of  man,  219;  defects  of  his  astro- 
nomy, 220  ;  discusses  the  Milky 
\Vay,  221  ;  views  of  organic  life, 
222  ;  theory  of  the  senses,  223  ; 
objective  and  subjective  qualities, 
224  ;  conclusion,  225  f.  ;  and 
Empedoclcs,  232/.,  241,  243,  254; 
and  corpus  Ilifpocrat.,  282  ;  and 
atomism,  324 ;  the  intlated  bag, 
326  ;  and  Leucippus,  346  f  ;  and 
Diogenes  Ap.,  371,  373;  and 
Archelaus,  378  ;  treatise  on  the 
stage,  387  ;  and  Thucydides,  504  ; 
sources,  556 

Anaximander  of  Miletus,  48;  map- 
maker,  49  ;  astronomer,  50  »  '^os- 
mogonist,  5'  A-  <  organic  creation, 
54 ;  cosmic  j)eriods,  55  ;  and 
Heraclitus,  61,  65  ;  and  I'ytha- 
goras,  no;  and  I'armenides,  172; 
and  Anaxagoras,  222  ;  and  the 
cosniogonic  vortex,  337,  339  ;  and 
Archelaus,  378  ;  sources,  532 

Anaximenes  of  Miletus,  50  ;  jnimary 
matter,  56  ;  hint  of  atomic  theory, 
57  ;  astroncjiny,  58  ;  and  Anaxi- 
mander, 59;    and   Heraclitus,   61  ; 


598 


INDEX. 


and  Parmenides,  172  ;  and  Anaxa- 
goras,  220  ;  and  Empedocles,  231 ; 
and  atomic  doctrine,  323  ;  and 
Diogenes  Ap.,  371,  373 ;  and 
Archelaus,  378 ;  sources,  534  ; 
eighteenth-century  parallels,  535 

Ancestor-worship,  23,  32 

"Ancient  Medicine,"  Hippocratic 
treatise  on,  164,  2gj  ff.,  490 

Animals,  Greek  attitude  towards, 
126  ;  lawsuits  against,  446 

"  Anonymity,"  396 

Anthropology  supersedes  cosmology, 

495 
"Antilogies,"  of  Protagoras,  464 
Antiphon,  434  ;  "On  Concord,"  435  ; 

and    Callicles,    437  ;     authorities, 

585 

Aniisthenes,  380 ;  Plato's  enemy, 
421 

Apollonius,  91 

"Apories"  ofZeno,  192^. 

Archelaus,  377  ;  as  eclectic  philo- 
sopher, 378  ;  on  "  Beauty,  Justice, 
and  the  Laws,"  402 

Archilochus,  433 

Archimedes,  Democritus,  and  Galilei, 

367 
Architecture,  387 
Aristarchus  of  Samos,  121,  367 
Aristides,  the  rhetorician,  284 
Aristippus,    453 ;     purpose     of    his 
appearance   in   Plato's    "Therete- 
tus,"  459 
>x     Aristophanes,        "  Plutus,"       284  ; 
'^         "Clouds,"  376,  411  ;  "Epulones," 
420,  476;  "Broilers,"  426;  jests 
at  Protagoras,  445 
Aristotle,  on  Thaies,  48  ;  on  Anaxi- 
mander,  51  ;  on  Heraclitus,  63,  76  ; 
on  the  "  theologians,"  85  ;  on  the 
Pythagoreans,  104-110,  119,  492  ; 
on  metempsychosis,  124  ;  and  Alc- 
mreon,  148,  151  ;  on  Xenophanes, 
159,    164;    on    Parmenides,    171, 
180;    and  Melissus,  186  ;    on  An- 
axagoras,  216,  220 ;  on  Empedocles, 
246  ;  on  Hippocrates  "the  Great," 
282  ;  on  therapeutics,  293  ;  on  De- 
mocritus, 319,  363  ;  on  Leucippus, 
320  ;  on  arrangement,  contact,  and 
position  of  bodies,  322  ;  on  Demo- 
critus    and    Leucippus,    363  ;    on 
Hippo,377  ;    on   Charondas,  386  ; 
on  natural  basis  of  slavery,  405  ;  on 
Ilippodamus,  410  ;  uses  "sophist" 
in  three   senses,    421  ;  is   called   a 
sophist,     422 ;     on     Theramenes, 
426  ;     testifies    to    Protagoras    as 


mathematician,  455  ;  on  the  homo- 
we/isi/ra  tenet,  461  ;  on  the  rhetoric 
of  Protagoras,  471  ;  "  Rhetoric," 
472  /.  ;  advice  to  poets,  474  ; 
(pseudo-)  Arist.  on  Gorgias,  481  ; 
use  of  inverse  deduction,  506  ;  of 
semi-historical  method,  507 

Aristoxenus,  464 

Art  =  handicraft,  390 

"Art  of  Consolations,"  Antiphon's 
treatise,  435 

Asia  Minor,  west  coast,  14,  279 

"  Assayer,  The,"  321 

Association  of  ideas,  I5_^. 

Astronomy,  contributions  of  Philo- 
laus,  wzff-  ;  heliocentric  doctrine, 
120 ;  contributions  of  Anaxa- 
goras,  218  ;  of  Democritus,  366 

Atharva-Veda,  278 

Athens,  the  centre  of  Greek  life,  381  ; 
head  of  a  confederacy,  382  ;  study 
of  rhetoric  and  politics,  383 ;  shibbo- 
leths of  government,  407  ;  the  city 
of  law-suits,  418;  age  of  Pericles 
and  Italian  Renaissance,  431  ;  de- 
mocracy and  liberty,  436  ;  plague 
and  war,  439  ;  an  embassy  from 
Leontini,  476  ;  treatise  on  the  con- 
stitution, 499  ff.  ;  the  Acropolis, 
506 

Atomism,  not  a  theory,  but  an  hypo- 
thesis, 353 ;  its  value,  354  ;  its 
relation  to  materialism,  355  ;  its 
teleology,  364/".  ;  its  comparative 
failure  at  the  start,  370 

Atomists,  Bk.  IIL,  Ch.  II.  See  De- 
mocritus, Leucippus,  etc. 

Attica,  4 

Attraction  of  like  by  like,  237  /., 
336 

Augustine,  St.,  87 

AvTdpK€La,  433 

Autolycus,  492 


B 


Babylon,  position  in  history  of  re- 
ligion, 96  /. ;  perhaps  visited  by 
Pythagoras,  100;  "world-year," 
142/ 

Bacon,  75,  344,  470,  505 

Baer,  K.  E.  von,  1 18;  coins  word 
Zielstrebigkeit,  364 

Ballads,  desuetude  of,  10 

Bardesanes,  403 

Basutos,  524 

Batteux,  271 

Battle  of  the  gods  in  mythology,  88 


INDEX. 


599 


Bayle,  Peter,  192 

"  Bellerophon,"  408 

Berkeley,  192,  321 

Bias  and  Heraclitus,  61 

Bill  of  Exchange,  9 

Boeckh,  120 

"Book  of  the  Dead,"  126,  133/. 

Boyle,  Robert,  568 

Brahe,  Tycho  de,  121 

Brahma,  124 

Brain,  its  physical  and  psychical  signi- 
ficance, 313 

Brandis,  Ilandbuck  der  Geschichte 
der  gricchiscli-rdmischen  Pliiloso- 
phie,  530 

Bruno,  Giordano,  107,  344. 

Buckle,  58 

Buddha,  124 

Biihler,  Professor,  549 

Burial,  524/^ 

Burke,  500 

Burritt,  Elihu,  3S0 

Byron,  Lord,  417 


Cabanis,  Miral)eau's  physician,  470 

Caesarian  section,  278 

Cakleron,  479 

Callicles.     See  "  Gorgias  " 

Callinus,  73 

Callisthenes,  422 

Cambaccrcs,  477 

"  Canon,"  of  Democritus,  361  ;    of 

Polycletus,  387 
Castration,  564 

Cause,  its  ambiguous  meaning,  341 
Centrifugal  force,  53,  2lS,  339 
Ccos,  428 

Chalda:an  pseudo-science,  283 
Chaos,   Ilcsiodic,  41  ;  Anaxagorean, 

213  ;    Scandinavian    and    Ilindoo 

I)arallels,  526 
Charlemagne,  508 
(Aharon  of  Lampsacus,  498 
Charondai,  386,  438  /. 
Chemistry,    contributions   of    Kmpe- 

docles,  233/.  ;  of  atomists,  327  J7".  ; 

modern  and  ancient,  330  ;  chemical 

elements,  531 
Chinese,  slate  religion,  32  ;  sophisms, 

555/-  ,        ,         c. 

Chronology  a  special  study,  498 

Cin(|Uccento,  30 

Cleanthes,  77,  536 

Cleoii,  516/ 

Cleostratus,  498 

Clisthenes,  137  ;  hi-;  reforms,  382 


Cnidus,    school   of  physicians,  2S6  ; 

■     its  chef  d^ceuvre,  314 

"Code  Napoleon,"  447 

Coexistence  of  contraries,  1\f. 

Coinage,  8. 

Colonies,  $ff- 

Colophon,  156 

Colotes,  359 

Colour,  defined  by  Gorgias,  492 

Comparative  anatomy  founded,  315 

Compromise      in      Greek     thought, 

371 
Comte,  Auguste,  107,  420 
"  Concord,"  treatise  on,  4^5 
Conflagration  of  the  World,  536 
Constancy  of  matter,  175/^".,  325 
"  Constitution    of  Athens,"    treatise 
on,  499  ;  bond  between  sea-power 
and  democracy,   500  ;    doctrinaire 
tendencies,  501  ;  its  uncompromis- 
ing condemnation  of  the  status  quo, 
502 
Convention.    See  Nature  versus  Con- 
vention 
Cooking,  386 
Copernicus,  ill 
Corjioreity  of  Being  denied  by  Melis- 

sus,  190/. 
Corpus  Hippocraticum,  2S2  //".  (see 
Hippocrates  and  separate  treatises) 
"Correct  Language,"  treatise  on,  429 
"  Correct  Speech,"  treatise  on.  442^. 
Correlation    of   qualities    and    <]uan- 

tities,  349 
"Corroborations"     of     Democritus, 

359 

Cos,  school  of  medicine,  296  ;  its  un- 
dying glory,  309  ;  contrast  with 
Cnidus,  310 

"  Counter-earth  "  of  Pytliagorcans, 
119/ 

Courni)l,  329 

Cratinus,  377 

Critias  the  statesman,  389,  437 

Criticism,  growth  of  spirit  in  Kleatic 
school,  205  ;  rise  in  historical  re- 
search, 256  ;  third  great  wave  in 
study  of  medicine,  313  ;  fostered 
in  fifth  century,  384  ;  in  Thucy- 
dides,  505 

Crocodile,  19 

Crcesus,  408 

Croton,  seat  of  Pythagoreans,  100  /". 

"Crushing  Speeciies  "  of  Diagoras, 
408 

Cyclic  (process,  141 

Cypselides,  9 

C'yrenaic  School  of  Socratics,  452 

Cyrus,  127,  157 


6oo 


INDEX. 


D 


Dalton,  234 

Dainastes,  497 

Damon,  3S6 

Darius,  268,  280 

Darwin,  365,  401  2i«A 

Dayaks,  124 

De  Tocqueville,  516 

Death,  primitive  views  of,  20/. ;  fear 
of  the  dead,  524 

Deductive  method,  308  ;  applied  to 
society  and  politics,  5CXD  ;  in  Thucy- 
dides,  509 

"Defender  of  Peace,  The,"  treatise, 
392 

Definition,  earliest  experiment  in 
treatise  "On  the  Art,"  491  ;  prac- 
tised by  mathematicians,  492 

Delphi,  oracle,  12 

Democedes  of  Croton,  279/. 

Democracy,  succeeds  "Tyranny,"  10; 
typical  Athenian,  382  ;  and  liberty, 
436  ;  and  sea-power,  500 

Democritus  of  Abdera,  316  ;  indis- 
tinguishable as  atomist  from  Leu- 
cippus,  317  ;  character  and  travels, 
318  ;  his  hypothesis  on  the  problem 
of  matter,  319  ;  nature  and  con- 
vention, 320 ;  compared  with 
Galilei,  321  ;  reality  of  matter, 
322  ;  atomism  the  fruit  of  Ionian 
physiology,  323  ;  two  agents  of 
atomic  theory,  324 ;  and  -pQStu- 
lates  of  matter,  325  ;  contribu- 
tions to  chemical  science,  329/".  ; 
recognizes  differences  only  of  size 
and  shape,  332  ;  his  physiology 
of  the  senses,  333  ;  atomic  gr^tlps, 
334r; — revives  and  alters  principle 
of  "like  to  like,"  336/.  ;  the  cos- 
mogonic  vortex,  338_/.  ;  inquiry 
into  atomic  motion,  340 ;  limits  of 
inquiry,  341/.  ;  debt  of  atomism 
to  Ionia  and  Elea,  344  ;  evidence 
of  Theophrastus,  345  ;  atomists 
and  Eleatics,  347  ;  "  Democri- 
tean ''  quantitative  determination 
of  corporeal  movements  really  the 
work  of  Leucippus,  350  ;  Uofi 
existence  of  a  vacuum,  352  ;  his 
m'Slerialism,  354  ;~  belief  in  the 
gods,  355  ;  his  psychology,  356  ; 
and  optics,  357  /.  ;  his  scepticism 
according  to  Sextus,  359  ;  accord- 
ing to  Colotes,  360;  his  "  Canon," 
361;  genuine  and  obscure  cogni- 
tion, 362  ;  recognizes  experience 
as  source  of  knowledge,  363  ;  his 


astronomy,  366 ;  his  cosmology, 
367  ;  his  ethics,  368  ;  conclusion, 
369  ;  his  book  on  tactics,  86  ;  on 
painting  and  agriculture,  387  ;  on 
law  and  justice,  394  ;  on  conven- 
tional origin  of  language,  Z9^ff-  5 
his  argument  from  homonymy 
refuted,  401  ;  his  experiments  in 
definition,  492  ;  on  leisure  in  art 
and  science,  498  ;  authorities,  568 

Descartes,  329,  335,  344,  349  ;  criti- 
cizes Galilei,  364 

"  Description  of  the  Earth,  A,"  by 
Ilecatffius,  255 

Diagoras    of    Melos,    408 ;   sources, 

577/"- 

Diderot,  463 

Diels,  Hermann,  Doxographi  Grceci, 
529,  and  notes  passim ;  Gorgias 
und  Empedocles,  notes  passim 

"  Diet,"  Hippocratic  treatise  on,  286 
ff.  ;  treatise  by  Herodicus,  386 

"  Differentiation  "  of  matter,  52  ;  re- 
placed by  mechanical  separation, 
214;    developed    by   Empedocles, 

239 

Diochaites,  167 

Diodorus,  84 

Diodotus,  515 

Diogenes  of  ApoUonia,  282  ;  as 
physician,  285  ;  most  distinguished 
eclectic  philosopher,  371  ;  his  • 
treatise  "  On  Nature,"  372  ;  sup- 
plements nous-theory  by  air- 
theory,    373  ;    his   encyclopaedism, 

374  ;  his  single  principle  of  matter, 

375  ;    in   optics,    pyschology,  etc., 

376  ;      derided    by    Aristophanes, 

377  ;  sources,  573 
Dionysius  of  Miletus,  498 
Dionysus  Zagreus,  128/. 
Diopeithes,  416 

"Discord,"    in    Apollonius,  91  ;    in 

Empedocles,  239/.,  338 
"  Diseases  of  Women,"  treatise  on, 

310 
Dodona,  oracle,  261/. 
Ad|a,  181 
"Dreams,"  Hippocratic  treatise  on, 

290 
Druids  and  Druses,  124 
Dubois-Reymond,  175 


E 


Eclecticism  (see  Diogenes  of  Apol- 
lonia,  Archelaus,  etc.)j  37 1  5 
Hippo's  inclusion,  573 


INDEX. 


601 


Ecphantus,  120 

Edinburgh  Review,  417 

Education,  metaphor  from  the  field, 
409)  578 ;  curriculum  extended, 
412  ;  activity  of  the  sophists,  413  ; 
views  of  Antiphon,  437  ;  of  Prota- 
goras, 441 

"  Effluvia,"  236,  492 

Egypt,  influence  on  Greek  religion, 
967".  ;  visited  by  Pythagoras,  100 ; 
visited  by  Hecatieus,  257  /.  ; 
influence  on  popular  medicine, 
283;  on  Mycenean  art,  521; 
Egyptian  geometry,  531 

El-Amarna,  cuneiform  archives,  96 

Eleatic  school  reviewed,  205  ff. ; 
relation  with  Empedocles,  253 ; 
with  the  Atomists,  345  ff.  ;  polemic 
of  Protagoras,  450 ;  of  Gorgias, 
485  ;  authorities,  550 

Embryo,  Hippocratic  views,  291 

Empedocles  of  Acragas  (Bk.  II.  Ch. 
v.),  91,130,  140  ;  and  Parmenides, 
183  ;  his  native  city,  227  ;  ambition, 
228  ;  versatility,  229  ;  speculative 
chemist,  230 ;  doctrine  of  four 
elements,  231^^!  ;  theory  of  vision, 
235  ;      allied     physiological     doc- 

,  trines,  236  ^.  ;  twin  forces  of 
"  Friendship  "  and  "  Discord,"  239 

'  O/tf^^*^-^'  '  *^*^^^^'^  °^  ^^^  cosmology,  241/.  ; 
■f  K**^  I  theory  of  organic  being,  243  /.  ; 
J  k  endows  matter  with  soul,  245  ;  his 

dualistic  psychology.,  246  ff.  ;  self- 
contradiction,  251  ;  his  harmonious 
theology,  252 ;  relation  with 
Elealics,  253  ;  summary,  254 ; 
and  corpus  Hippocrat.,  282 ;  as 
physician,  285  ;  and  Democritus, 
336,  355  ;  and  Gorgias,  481,  487  ; 
sources,  558 

"  Empty  "  hypotheses,  305  /. 

"  I'^nglish  Essay,"  474 

Epaminondas,  loi 

Epliesus  in  the  time  of  Heraclitus,  62 

Epicharmes,  313 

Kpictetus,  77 

l-:picurus,  330,  356,  394  ;  on  lan- 
guage, 398 

Epidaurus  as  health-resort,  284 

Epilepsy,  312 

Epimenides,  91 

Equivalents  in  chemistry,  328 

Eristic,  590/. 

Ether  in  contemp(jrary  j^hysics,  330 

Euclides,  421 

Eudemus,  90/.,  94,  140,  144 

Eudoxus,  121 

Eumolpus,  477 


Euphuism,  ancient  and  modern,  4807". 
Eupolis,  420 

Euripides,   r^,  ;^7^  •  ""  "^ture  and 
~   Qflayention,    404  ;     on    happinesiit. 
(^  408^011  rrbdicus^428  :  and  Prota-    '-^ 
£oras,  440,  ,462         '  ' 

EiiryphoTl,  288 

Ebdvixla,  Democritean,  368 
Euthymenes,  498 
Exact  science,  299 
Existence  of  elements,  45 


Fairy  tales,  their  migration,  541 

"  Fall  of  the  soul  by  sin,"  128 

"Fate,"  treatise  on,  403 

Fechner,  182,  328 

Fees,  Protagorean  mode  of  settle- 
ment, 449,  473 

Fetishism,  18^.  ;  yields  to  polytheism, 
27  ;  exposed  by  Prodicus,  430  ; 
origin  and  authorities,  522/] 

Fichte,  145 

Fine  arts,  professional  studies,  386/. 

Fire,  in  doctrine  of  Heraclitus,  64 
J".  ;  of  Philolaus,  II7  ;  of  Hippo- 
cratic treatise  "On  Diet,"  287  ;  in 
atomic  hypothesis,  357  ;  in  the 
legend  of  Prometheus,  389 

Fish-men,  53 

Flux  in  the  doctrine  of  Heraclitus, 
68  ^. ;  influence  on  Parmenides, 
167 

Forster,  George,  390 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  219 

French  Revolution,  393,  410 

"  Friendship"  and  "Discoril,"  2^g/. 

"  Funeral  Oration,"  of  Gorgias, 
478  ;  of  Pericles,  436,  516 


G 


Galilei,  321,  329,  349  ;  criticized  by 
Descartes  and  Mersenne,  364  ;  and 
Aristotelianism,  366  ;  and  Archi- 
medes, 367 

Games  of  Olympia,  12 

Gasscndi,  329 

Geber,  149 

Gender  of  substantives,  443  /f. 

"Genealogies,"  by  llecatxus,  255 

"Genesis,"  560/! 

Geographical  exploration,  "j /. 

Girgenli,  227 

Glaucus  of  Rhegium,  497 

Gnomon,  50,  532 


6o2 


INDEX. 


Gods,  24  ff.  ;  and  men  in  Homer, 
2Sy".  ;  borrowed,  96 ;  conceptions 
corrected  in  Egypt,  257  y.  ;  "  On 
the  Gods,"  by  Protagoras,  440; 
inferior  and  perishable  gods,  534 

Goethe,  44,  55,  244,  451,  463 

"Golden  Book  of  Marcus  Aurelius," 
480 

Gomperz,  Bciiriige,  etc.,  55°'  ^i^<i 
notes /a.w/w;  Herodoteische  Sludien, 
563  ;  Die  Apologia  der  Heilkunst, 
582,  and  no\jt%  passim 

Gorgias  of  Leontini,  229  ;  Sicilian 
envoy  to  Athens,  476  ;  death  and 
memorials,  477  ;  a  founder  of 
panegyric  prose,  477  ;  characteristics 
of  his  style,  478  ;  parallel  features 
in  Renaissance  literature,  479  f.  ; 
his  five  known  speeches,  480  ;  his 
nature-philosophy  and  ethiqs,  481  ; 
three  theses  of  Being,  482-486 ; 
their  logical  value,  487  _^.  ;  his 
quarrel  with  the  Eleatics,  489/.  ; 
definitions  of  rhetoric  and  colour, 
492  ;  evidence  of  his  pupils,  493  ; 
comparison  with  the  Xenophontic 
Socrates,  494 ;  conclusion,  495  ; 
sources,  592 

"  Gorgias,"  of  Plato,  405  ;  views  of 
Callicles  on  might  and  right,  406  ; 
transformation  of  his  character, 
407  ;  polemic  of  Antiphon,  437  ; 
repudiation  of  rhetoric,  471  ;  Calli- 
cles and  Charicles,  577 

"Grain  of  Millet,"  192  J'.,  322, 
464 

Grammar,  introduced  by  Protagoras, 
441 

Gravitation,  218 

"Great  Order  of  the  Universe," 
treatise  by  Democritus  on  the,  317 

Greater  Greece,  6 

Greece  and  Greeks,  4  ;  influence  of 
Egypt  and  Babylon,  5,  li,  96,  etc.  ; 
colonies,  6  ;  exploration,  8  ;  battle 
of  classes,  9  ;  travel,  1 1  ;  art  of 
writing,  13  ;  west  coast  of  Asia 
Minor,  14  ;  religious  ideas,  15 ; 
early  gods,  24  ;  sense  of  beauty, 
27  ;  circles  of  ancestor-worship, 
32  ;  origin  of  evil,  37  ;  priesthood, 
43  ;  belief  in  immortality,  81  J/".  ; 
debt  to  the  East,  95  ;  other  foreign 
influences,  96  ;  views  of  life  and 
Philolaic  system,  117  ;  transmigra- 
tion of  souls,  126  ;  attitude  to 
monotheism,  161  ;  first  illustrated 
book,  209  ;  intellectual  enfranchise- 
ment, 255  ;  favourable  conditions. 


275  ;  springs  of  success,  276  ;  early 
physicians,  279  ;  art  of  medicine, 
285  ;  dawn  of  true  science,  295  ; 
the  Mcisterjahre,  296  ;  seat  and 
centre  at  Athens,  381  ;  power  of 
the  tongue,  382  ;  friction  of  in- 
tellect, 383 ;  intellectualism,  385/.; 
professional  authorship,  386  /.  ; 
progress  of  thought,  388  ;  theories 
of  language-formation,  394  ff.  ; 
authority  and  reason,  408  f.  ; 
radicalism,  41 1  ;  widening  of  edu- 
cational curriculum,  412  ;  dislike 
of  the  sophists,  416  ;  contempt  of 
wage-earning,  417;  Pan-Hellenism, 
439,  480  ;  panegyric  and  forensic 
eloquence,  477  ;  man,  "  the  proper 
study  of  mankind,"  495  ;  develop- 
ment of  historiography,  497  f.  ; 
discovery  of  globular  shape  of  earth, 
543  ;  Greek  and   Hindoo  thought, 

551/- 
Greenlanders,  124 
Grote,  on  sophists,  435  ;  on  Gorgias, 

488 
Guevara,  479/". 


H 


Hann,  Professor,  570 

Hanno,  120;  his  Periplus  and  doc- 
trine of  a  central  fire,  545 

"  Harmony  of  the  spheres,"  117 

Hecataeus  of  Miletus,  61  ;  statesman 
and  historian,  255  ;  exordium  to 
history,  256,  505  ;  visit  to  Thebes, 
257  ;  reconstruction  of  myths,  258  ; 
criticized  by  Herodotus,  505 ; 
authorities,  563 

Hegel,  77,  447 

Pleliocentricity,  116;  supersedes 
geocentricity,  122 

Hellanicus,  91,  432,  498 

Hellas  and  Hellenes.  See  Greece  and 
Greeks,  passim 

Heraclides,  I2i,  498,  558 

Heraclitism  summarized,  78/^ 

Heraclitus  of  Ephesus,  59 ;  chrono- 
'ogy>  60 ;  contempt  of  mankind, 
61  ;  aristocratic  sympathy,  62  ; 
primary  matter,  63  f.  ;  objections, 
65  ;  doctrine  of  flux,  66  f.  ;  rela- 
tivity of  qualities,  68  ;  coexistence 
of  contraries,  71  ;  war,  72  ;  uni-  ^.^ 
versal  law,  74  f.  ;  intellectual  and 
moral  consequences,  76/!  ;  conclu- 
sion, 78  /.  ;  and  Pythagoras,  99- 
109  ;    cyclic    process,     141  ;    and 


INDEX. 


60- 


Xenophanes,  161;  and  Parmenides, 
id"]  ff.  ;  and  Empedocles,  231  ;  and 
corpus  Hippccrat.,  282  ;  and  atom- 
i^im,  323,  357  ;  on  language,  395/-; 
sources,  535  ;  his  co-ordination 
with  Pythagoras  and  Xenophanes 
justified,  537 

"Hercules  at  the  parting  of  the 
ways,"  429,  584 

Hermodorus,  62 

Herodicus,  288,  386 

Herodotus  of  Halicarnassus,  60,  96, 
100,  126/.,  219;  birth,  258;  re- 
construction of  myths,  259  ;  legend 
of  Troy,  260  ;  oracle  of  Dodona, 
261  ;  other  measures  of  "compro- 
mise," 263  f.  ;  scepticism,  265  ; 
supposed  monotheistic  tendency, 
266  ;  Providence,  267  ;  its  judicial 
attribute,  268  ;  credulity  and  hy- 
percriticism,  269  f.  ;  access  of 
positivism,  271  ;  conclusion,  272  ; 
on  Greek  climate,  276  ;  on  verifi- 
cation, 306  ;  on  human  convention, 
403  /.  ;  argument  on  happiness, 
408  ;  on  the  contempt  of  industry, 
417  ;  contrasted  with  Thucydides, 
503,/  ;  on  the  Thracians,  546 

Herschel,  455 

Hesiod  of  Ascra,  38  ;  "  Theogony," 
39  ;  cosmogonic  system,  40  f.  ; 
original  speculations,  41  ;  and 
Anaximander,  51  ;  and  Homer,  60, 
130;  future  life,  83;  and  Phere- 
cydes,  89  ;  /ICthcr,  98  ;  idealized 
the  past,  387 

Hieronymus,  91 

Hippasus  of  NIctaiiontum,  146,  371 

Hippo,  285  ;  eclectic  philosoj)lier, 
377  ;  sources,  573 

Hippocrates,  164;  birth,  282;  rela- 
tions to  predecessors,  282  /.  ;  two 
groups  of  treatises  in  corpus,  286  ; 
"  On  Diet,"  287  ;  its  promise  and 
])erformance,  289;  "On  Dreams," 
290;  "On  the  Muscles,"  290;  in- 
dependent experiments,  291  ;  ])ro- 
lilein  of  organic  creation,  292;  merit 
of  treatise  "  On  the  Mu-^cics,"  294  ; 
"  f)n  the  Number  Seven,"  294/  ; 
•'  On  Old  Medicine,"  2(^7^;  ;  po- 
lemic and  reaction,  303  ;  his  use  of 
hypothesis,  305  /.  ;  invention  of 
correct  inductive  method,  308  ; 
"  i 'rognost icon,"  310  ;  "  On  Water, 
Air,  and  Sites,"  31 1  ;  marks  of  true 
sci'jntilic  sjjirit,  314;  author  of  "  On 
tlir  Joint-  "  the  pioneer  of  compara- 
tive   anatomy,    315;    Hippocrates 


in  Abdera,  316 ;  pseudo-Hippo- 
cratic  treatise  "  On  the  Art,"  423  ; 
its  contents  and  style,  424  ;  not 
altogether  a  type  of  its  kind,  425  ; 
reconsidered,  467  ;  its  author  was 
Protagoras  {(J. v.),  468  ;  its  Rela- 
tivistic  spirit,  491 

Hobbes,  118,  321 

Hofifmeister,  Sittlich-rcligiose  Le- 
beiisaiischauimg      des       Herodotos, 

563 

Homer,  gods,  24  ;  Hymn  to  Aphro- 
dite, 26 ;  and  Schliemann,  28  ; 
gods  and  men,  28/.  ;  obsequies  of 
Patroclus,  30  /.  ;  obsolete  soul- 
worship,  33  ;  and  Hesiod,  38,  60, 
130  ;  problem  of  matter,  45  ;  and 
Heraclitus,  60 ;  future  world,  82 
/.  ;  doctrine  of  Night,  91,  525  : 
sacred  number  three,  io6  ;  insouci- 
ance, 130 ;  psyche,  249 ;  divine 
and  human,  266  ;  medical  art, 
279  ;  allegorized  by  Diogenes  Ap., 
375  ;  allegorical  key  of  Aietrodorus, 
378,  574  ;  allegorized  by  Theagenes, 
379  ;  linguistic  criticism  of  Prota- 
goras, 443/.  ;  biography  l^y  Stesim- 
brotus,  497  ;  treatment  by  Thu- 
cydides, 507  y. 

Ilomo-Meiisiira  tenet,  451  f.;  its 
generic  significance,  453  ;  =  "  cog- 
nition is  sense-perception,"  accord- 
to  Plato,  456 

Homonymy,  396,  401 

Horses,  treatise  by  Simo,  386  ;  in  the 
prcan  of  Forster,  390 

Human  sacrifices,  30  f]\ 

Humboldt,  A.  von,  333 

Huyghens,  335,  349 

"  Hylozoists,"  66,  245 


I 


Immortality,  80 /T.,   250 

Impenetrability  of  matter,  325/". 

"  Imperative  Siieech,  The,"  by  Pro- 
tagoras, 445 

"  Incorrect  Actions  of  Mankind,  On 
the,"  Protagoras'  treatise,  445 

Indestructibility  of  matter,  45 

India,  art  of  medicine,  27S 

Inductive  method,  308 

Intellerlualisni,  385  /'. 

Inverse  deduction  as  historical  method, 
506 

Ion,  "  Pilgrimngo,"  498 

Ionia,  14,  157,  522 


6o4 


INDEX. 


Ionian  nature-philosophy,  Bk.  I.  Ch. 
I.  See  Anaximenes,  Anaximander, 
etc. 

"Ipse  dixit,"  109 

Islam,  disperses  fairy  tales,  541 

"  Isles  of  Tin,"  269 

Isocrates,  417  ;  calls  Plato  a  sophist, 
422  ;  and  Protagoras,  462  ;  euphu- 
ism, 479  ;  pupil  of  Gorgias,  493 

Isomery,  328 


J 


Jason  of  Pheroe,  477 

Jaundice,  Styrian  view,  278  j 

"Joints,"    Hippocratic    treatise    on  j 

the,  314  I 

Justice,  basis  of  Plato's  discussion  in  j 

Rep.  I.,  464 


K 


Kant,  53,  176,  195,  218,  488 

Karens,  124 

Karsten,  Philosophorum  .  .  .  reliquia, 

550,  and  notes /ajjz'w 
"  Kettles  "  and  "  tripods,"  8,  521 
Kremer,  Alfred  von,  249 


Lachi.^h,  96 

Laertius  Diogenes,  530,  and  notes 
passim 

Lampsacus,  death  of  Anaxagoras, 
209 

Language,  two  theories  of  origin, 
394  ;  natural  origin  supported  by 
Heraclitus,  395  ;  counter-theory  of 
Democritus,  396  ff.  ;  Epicurean 
ridicule,  398 ;  studies  of  Prodicus, 
427;  the  book  "On  Correct 
Speech "  by  Protagoras,  442  ff.  ; 
increased  strictness  of  word-con- 
ceptions, 491  ;  philosophy  of  lan- 
guage, 527 

Laplace,  53,  218 

Lassalle,  77 

Lasus  of  Hermione,  386 

Lavoisier,  46,  559 

Leibniz,  344 

Lessing,  124,  318 

Leucippus  (see  Democritus),  66,  224, 
31 7_^.  ;  clings  to  both  postulates  of 
matter,  325  ;  his  chemistry,  328  ; 
cosmogony,  342  ;  evidence  of  Theo- 


phrastus,  345  ;  and  Anaxagoras, 
356/.  ;  and  Parmenides,  348 ;  the 
crown  of  his  labours,  349  ;  his  h 
priori  demonstrations,  350  /.  ;  his 
materialism,  355  ;  authorities  and 
sources,  567/". 

Lewis,  Sir  G.  C.,  112 

Liberty,  436 

"  Like  by  like,"  Empedocles'  doctrine 
of  attraction,  237 ;  revived  by 
Democritus,  336 

"List  of  Olympic  Victors,"  432 

Littre,  314  ;  (JLuvres  cH Hippocrate, 
notes  passim 

Lobeck,  Christian  August,  92,  95, 
448 

Locke,  321,  348,  391/ 

Logos  in  New  Testament,  90 

London  Papyrus,  565 

Lucian,  calls  Christ  a  sophist,  422 

Lycophron,  493 

Lydia,  532 

Lyell,  Sir  C,  162 

Lyly,      John,      478;      "Euphues," 

479 
Lysias,  calls  Plato  a  sophist,  422 


M 


Machiavelli,  500,  515 

Malta,  162 

"Manes,"  32 

'Manichcean  doctrine,  538 

Maoris,  36,  91,  525 

Map-making,  49 

Marcus  Aurelius,  77 

Marriage-torch,  symbolism,  544 

Marsilius  of  Padua,  392 

Mathematicians,  qualities  and  defects 

of,  109  ;  practise  definition,  492 
Matter,   problem  of,  44  f.,  210    ff., 

3i9#-,  343 

Medici,  9 

Medicine-man,  277 

Melancomas,  60 

Melissus  of  Samos,  165  ;  sense  of  his 
"thesis,"  166;  scepticism,  168; 
enfant  terrible  of  metaphysics,  184  ; 
practical  mystic,  185  ;  his  method 
of  reasoning,  187  ;  some  of  its 
fallacies,  \%%f.  ;  incorporeal  Being, 
190;  and  corpus  Hippocrat.,  282  ; 
and  the  homo-mensura  tenet  of 
Protagoras,  453  ;  and  Gorgias, 
484 ;  sources,  554 

Urjvis,  443/. 

"  Meno  "  of  Plato,  492 

Mercenaries,  522 


INDEX. 


605 


Metaphysics,  prejudices  of,  343/. 
Metempsychosis,  123^.  ;  and  Phere- 

cydes,  542  ;  non-Greek  origin,  546 
Meteorology   suspected    of    atheism, 

416 
Meto,  227 
Meton,  498 

Metrodorus  of  Chios,  367 
Metrodorus  of  Lampsacus,  378  ;   his 

allegorical  key  to  Homer,  379,  574 
Miccus,  418 
Middle  Ages,  parallelisms  in,  7/".,  9, 

95,  124,  392,  446 
Milky  Way,  explanation   of   Anaxa- 

goras,  221 
Mill,  J.  S.,  328,  394,  455,  463 
"  Mind,"    treatise    of  Leucippus   on 

the,  317 
Mithzecus,  386 
Mnesarchus,  99 
Modesty,  ancient,  318,  419  ;  growth, 

490/. 
Monochord,  of  Pythagoras,  102 
Monotheism,  supersedes  polytheism, 

44  ;  regarded  as  sacrilegious,  161 
Montesquieu,  158,  311 
Moschion,  388 
Moses,  90 

Motion  and  rest,  341^.,  536 
MuUach,   Aristotelis^   etc.,  550,   and 

notes  passitn 
Midler,  Johannes,  296 
Musa.'us,  91 
"Muscles,"  Hippocratic  treatise  on, 

290/ 
Music,     treatises     on     theory,     3S6 ; 

historically  treated,  497  f. 
Mycena-,  tombs,  32  ; -civilization,  33  ; 

Egypt  and  Mycenean  art,  521 
Mysticism,  132/.  ;  treatise  "On  the 

Mysteries,"  497 
Myths  transformed,  258^. 


N 


Napoleon,  157 

National  psychology,  founded,  31 1 

Natural  worshij),  21^. 

"  Nature,"  treatise  on,  'Sl^ff. 

"  Nature     of     Man,"     treatise     on, 

371 

"Nature  or  Not-Heing,"  lost  treatise 
of  Gorgias,  481 

"Nature  of  Women,"  treatise  an, 
310 

Nature  versus  Convention,  in  sense- 
percc])tion,  320  [f.  ;  in  language- 
formation,  yj^ff.  ;  the  same  illus- 


trated,   399  /.  ;    in    political    and 

social  phenomena,  402^'. 
Nature-myths,  357^ 
Nature-Philosophers,  Bk.    I.  Ch.   I. 

See  separate  headings 
Navigation,  8 
Neo-PIatonists,  84 
Newton,  57 
Nicias,  514,  516,  518 
Niebelungcnlied,  28 
Night  as  primary  being,  91 
Nile,    Thales  and    the    rise    of,  47  ; 

view  of  Herodotus,  27 
Nominalists,  434 
"Nous"     of    Anaxagoras,     215^.; 

treated  by  Diogenes  of  ApoUonia, 

Number,    Pythagorean    doctrine    of, 

103  ;  expression  of  universal  law, 

104  ;  and  spatial  relations,  105  ; 
and  spiritual  relations,  106  ;  sacred 
numbers,  107  ;  odds  and  evens, 
108  ;  in  Ilippocratcs,  291 

"Number       Seven,"       Hippocratic 

treatise  on,  294^! 
Nymphs,  26 


O 


Cannes,  534 

"  Obscurity,"  in  Protagoras'  fragment 

on  the  gods,  449 
Odyssey,  contrasted  points  of  view, 

524. 
CEnopides,  498 

"Ogenos  "  =  Oceanus,  86  ;  538 
Oken,  L.,  107,  289 
"  Old    Medicine."       See     "  Ancient 

Medicine  " 
Olorus,  502 

"  Omniscients  "  of  Cratinus,  377 
Onasilus  of  Cyprus,  280 
Onomacritus,  S6,  137 
Orchomenus,  vaulted  tomb,  32 
'•  Order  of  the  Universe,"  treatise  by 

Leucippus  on  the,  317 
Origen,  530,  585/. 
Orphans,     the    law    of     (Jliarondas, 

386 
Orpheus  and  Orphicism,  %ii,ff..,  123//;, 

134  ff.,  247 
Orphics,  C()smogomy,9077. ;  Eg>'i)tian 

and  Phiinician])arallels,  94  ;  .luher, 

98  ;  trinity  of  primary  beings,  107  ; 

myth  (jf  Dionysus  Zagreus,  128/.  ; 

religion,  135.//'.;  and  tyrants,  137; 

age  of  poems,  539 
Orthagorules,  9 


6o6 


INDEX. 


Painting,  and  medicine,  300  f.  ; 
theory   ciiscussed    by   Democritus, 

387 

Pandora,  37 

Pan-Hellenism,  439,  480 

Papyrus  shrub,  13 

Parmenides  of  Elea,  166  ;  his  debt  to 
predecessors,  167  ;  assails  Hera- 
clitus,  169  ;  iconoclasm,  170  ;  the 
ppstulates  of  matter,  172  ^.  ;  its 
unchangeability,  126  ;  his  universe, 
177/.  ;  spirituafanH  material,  179  ; 
his  "  Words  of  opinion,"  181  ;  his 
physiology,  183 ;  defended  by 
Zeno,  192  ;  relation  to  Anaxa- 
goras,  209 ;  and  Empedocles,  250, 
253  ;  and  corpus  Hippocrat.,  282  ; 
and  atomism.  324  ;  and  Leucigpus, 
345  ff.  ;  and  Archelaus,  37S;  and 
Protagoras,  448  ;  and  Gorgias, 
487  ;  sources,  552 

Pascal,  335 

Pericles,  438/.,  446 

Persseus,  430 

Persia,  as  link  between  East  and 
West,  127  ;  influence  of  Persian 
wars,  382,  384  ;  Greek  histories  of 
Persia,  498 

"Personification  of  nature,"  34  ff., 

444 

"  Phredrus  "  of  Plato,  472 

Phaleas  of  Chalcedon,  409  ;  sources, 
578 

Phanes,  84,  92  f.,  539 

Pherecydesof  Syros,  85^^^,  100,  107  ; 
sources,  538 

Philo  of  Alexandria,  379 

Philodemus,  Oft  Piety,  577 

Philolaus,  112  ;  system  of  astronomy, 
113^  ;  universal  fire,  117;  psycho- 
logy, 250 ;  as  physician,  285  ;  move- 
ment of  firmament  of  fixed  stars, 

544 

Philosophy,  general  considerations  of 
scope  and  meaning,  526^. 

Phoenicia,  5 

"Physician's  Oath,  the,"  280/. 

Pindar,  130,  250,  404,  441 

Pisistratides,  9,  137,382 

Pisistratus,  86 

"  Pitaras  "  of  Hindoos,  32 

Plato,  135,  137  ;  and  "  the  great  " 
Parmenides,  179;  on  Zeno,  192, 
204 ;  on  Anaxagoras,  216 ;  self- 
praise,  318;  pedantic  note,  390; 
on  law  and  justice,  393;  "Craty- 
lus,"  395  ;    cosmopolitan   ideal  of 


Hippias,  404  ;  "  Gorgias,"  405  ; 
the  character  of  Callicles,  406 
f.  ;  on  Protagoras,  413  yC  ;  his 
contempt  for  society,  418  ;  his 
attacks  on  the  sophists,  419  ; 
differentiates  between  old  and  new 
race  of  sophists,  42oy".  ;  is  him- 
self called  a  sophist,  422 ;  on 
Prodicus,  425 ;  on  Protagoras, 
449  ;  view  of  homo-mensura  tenet, 
456  ff.  ;  and  "  antilogic,"  466  ; 
treatment  of  rhetoric,  471  f.; 
solecisms  of  logic,  4S3 ;  on 
Gorgias,  492  f.  ;  evidence  of 
"Cratylus"  and  "  Theaetetus, " 
589/.  ;  date  of  "  Sophistes,"  591 

Pliny,  62 

Plurality  of  causes,  3 

Poetry,  development  of,  loy. ;  senten- 
tious, 12  ;  written,  13  ;  and  scenery, 
27  ;  stigmatized  by  Xenophanes, 
157;  allegorical  method,  375,  380  ; 
historically  treated,  A,<)'l  f. 

"Poets    and  Sophists,"  treatise   on, 

497 

"  Polarity,"  71 

Politics,  rise  of  study  at  Athens,  383 

Polus,  493 

Polybus,  165  ;  relation  to  Parme- 
nides, 171  ;  quotes  Alcmiton,  230 

Polycletus,  387 

Polycrates,  9,  100 

Polymathy,  denounced  by  Heraclitus, 
61 

Polyonymy,  396 

Polytheism,  27 ;  inclines  to  mono- 
theism, 44  ;  opposed  by  Herodotus, 
264 

Porphyry,  450,  453 

Postulates  of  matter,  1^2  ff.,  254;  as 
raw    material    of   atomic    theory, 

324/- 

Proclus,  84 

Prodicus,  of  Ceos,  385  ;  "  the  pre- 
cursor of  Socrates,"  425  ;  specu- 
lations on  language,  427  ;  pessim- 
ism, 428  ;  ideals  and  ethics,  429  ; 
contribution  to  history  of  religion, 
430  ;  authorities,  582 

Professional  authorship,  386,  5  74 /I 

Professionalism,  417,  580/; 

Prometheus,  389 

Proportional  combinations,  233/".,  328 

Prose-composition,  13,  49,  425,  477 

Protagoras  of  Abdera  (Bk.  IH.  Ch. 
VI.),  389  ;  educational  ideal,  413  ; 
chooses  title  of  sophist,  416 ; 
analysis  of  forms  of  speech,  427  ; 
legislator  at  Thurii,  438  ;  residence 


INDEX. 


607 


at  Athens,  439 ;  death,  440 ;  teacher 
and  philologist,  441  ff. ;  ethical 
treatises,  445  ;  conversation  be- 
tween Protagoras  and  Pericles, 
446  ;  doctrine  of  punishment,  447  ; 
the  problems  of  theology,  44S 
ff.;  metaphysics,  450;  "man  the 
measure  of  all  things,"  451  ff.  ; 
empirical  origin  of  thel  tenets  of 
geometry,  455  ;  iconoclasm,  456  ; 
alleged  scepticism,  457  ;  refuted 
by  Platonic  "  Protagoras,"  458  ; 
the  "  Theastetus,"  and  Aristotle, 
459^.  ;  Protagorean  "  Antilogies," 

464  ;     dialectic     art    summarized, 

465  ;  treatise  "  On  the  Art  "  again, 
467  ;  authorship  of  Protagoras, 
468 ;  evidence  from  the  "  So- 
phistes,"  469 ;  historical  impor- 
tance, 470  ;  Protagoras  as  rhetori- 
cian, 471  ;  personal  integrity,  473  ; 
themes  and  commonplaces,  474  ; 
conclusion,  475  ;  sources,  586 ; 
chronology,  587  ;  alleged  new 
fragment,  588  ;  the  "  Theii^tetus  " 
and  "  Cratylus,"  589/. 

Proudhon,  78 

Pseudo-Hippocrates,  "  On  the  Art." 
See  Hippocrates 

Pseudo-Plato,  Axiochics,  583/! 

Pseudo-Plutarch,  Placka  Philoso- 
phorum,  530,  and  notes /(Zjj-Z/w 

Ptah,  94 

Pu  root,  399/: 

Punishment,  447  ;  and  reward  in 
after-life,  537 

Pythagoras,  and  Heraciitus,  61  ; 
birth,  99  ;  travels,  loo  ;  founds  a 
community  at  Croton,  loi  ;  de- 
V(jtion  to  music,  102  ;  sound  and 
number,  103  /T.  ;  astronomy,  IIO; 
summary.  III;  devcloi)ment  of 
doctrines  by  Philolaus  \q.v.)  and 
other  Pythagoreans,  I3k.  I.  Ch. 
IV.  ;  pre-existeuce  of  his  soul, 
124  ;  Indian  influences,  127  ;  Or- 
phicism  and  Pythagorism,  138; 
Pythagorean  theology,  139/.  ;  con- 
clusion, 147  ;  and  Parmcnides, 
167  ;  and  Emi>e<locles,  248  ; 
Pythagorean  influence  on  Lcuci])- 
pu-.,  347  ;  source-,  54 1 

Pylliodorus,  440 


(,)ualitics  and  fjuantitics  correlated  by 
Lcucippus,  349 


"Questions  of  King  Milinda,"  251 
Quintilian,  474 


Reason,  supersedes  authority,  408/".  ; 
Greek  and  French,  410/ 

Relativism,  70,  201,  4907; 

Religion,  rebirth  of,  15  ;  formation 
of,  \(iff.  ;  transformation  of,  25^;  ; 
human  sacrifices,  30  f.  ;  causes  of 
change  in  soul-idea,  33/.  ;  mono- 
theistic tendency,  44  ;  development 
in  Greek  life,  Soff.  ;  borrowed  gods, 
96  ;  influence  of  Babylon,  96  ; 
psychological  motive,  125  ;  mysti- 
cism, 132  /  ;  inevitable  contra- 
dictions, 257  ;  conflict  of  science 
and  faith,  262  ;  priestly  and  lay 
medicine,  283  /f.  ;  religious  views 
of  Democritus  and  Leucijipus,  355  ; 
allegorical  method,  375  ;  attacked 
by  critics,  408;  pliability,  411; 
criticized  by  Prodicus,  430  ;  teach- 
ing of  Protagoras,  448^/; ;  sce]Hicism 
of  Thucydides,  510  /.  ;  scientific 
terminology,  522/". 

1-lenan,  379,  450 

Rest  and  motion,  67,  341  /f.  ;  in 
Lewes,  Grove,  and  Spencer,  536 

Retributive  doctrine  of  the  future 
state,  81  /.  ;  its  conflict  with  pre- 
destination, 251 

"  Rhapsodies,"  92 

Rha]5sodists,  579 

Rhetoric,  382 ;  half  dialectic,  half 
style,  383 ;  its  early  difficulties, 
385  ;  aim  and  shame,  471  /.  ; 
Aristotle's  theory  of  the  art,  473 

"  Riddles  of  the  Universe,"  343,  570 

Rig-\'ed.a,  97 

Kilter  and  Preller,  liisloria  JViihisc- 
phiiC  Grum,  531 

Rohde,  PsycliCy  mtivs  pusi/u 

Rousseau,  393 


S 


"Sacred  Disease,"   1  lippocratic  trea- 
tise on  tiie,   31 1 
Samson,  35 
Sarpi,  I'aolo,  500 
Savage  man,    ])rimitive  views  of,    16 

I/;  34  # 
Schelling,  289 
Schliemann,  28 
Sch'ill,  /J/r  Aitldni^e  citur  politi.wluii 

Litti-ratur  bd  den  Gritchcu,  595 


6o8 


INDEX. 


Schopenhauer,  420 

Scylax,  498 

Scythians,     royal   funeral      customs, 

31/- 
"  Seasons,  The,"  by  Prodicus,  429 
Selinus,  229 
Semi-historical  method,  in  Hecatoeus, 

256  ;  enlarged  by  Herodotus,  259 

/.  ;   adopted  by  Thucydides,  507  ; 

Euhemeristic,  577 
"Separation  "  of  the  elements,  214, 

239 

Sextus,  359,  361 

Sforza,  9 

Shakespeare,  "  Macbeth,"  478  ;  Fal- 
staffs  speech,  479  ;  euphuism,  479 

"  Shepherd  of  Hermas,"  429 

Silphion,  279 

Simo,  386 

Simonides,  432 

Sinope,  8 

Slavery,  according  to  Heraclitus,  72  ; 
to  Aristotle,  405  ;  to  Callicles  in 
Plato,  405/: 

■Social  contract,  392  ;  origin  and 
forms  of  the  doctrine,  393  ;  autho- 
rities, 575/ 

Socrates,  loi,  385,  390;  and  Pro- 
tagoras, 414/.,  446  ;  in  the  "  The- 
oetetus,"  459;  in  the  "Apology," 
471  ;  modesty  and  relativism,  491  ; 
in  Xenophon,  494  ;  and  contem- 
porary thought,  496  ;  his  place  in 
history  of  philosophy,  528 

Solon,  267,  408 

"  Song  of  a  Physician,"  277/". 

"  Sophistes"  of  Plato,  466  j^ 

Sophists,  Bk.  III.  Ch.  V.  (see 
separate  headings) ;  replace  the 
rhapsodists,  412;  itinerant  teachers, 
413  ;  half  professors,  half  journa- 
lists, 414  ;  teaching  profession  their 
common  factor,  415  ;  early  dis- 
favour, 416 ;  unpopular  profes- 
sionalism, 417  ;  Plato's  attack, 
418  f.  ;  old  and  new  generation, 
420 ;  Plato's  and  Aristotle's  change 
of  views,  421  ;  restitution  due  to 
sophists,  422  ;  evidence  of  treatise 
"On  the  Art  "  {q.v.),  423^.  ;  they 
did  not  form  a  separate  school, 
425  ;  Grote's  view,  435  ;  sum- 
mary, 436  ;  influence  of  Plato's 
view,  460  ;  importance  of  treatise 
"  On  the  Art,"  470;  Pan-Hellen- 
ism, 480  ;  use  of  the  word  "  so- 
phist," S79f-  j  Henry  Sidgwick's 
contribution,  581 

Sophocles,  386 


Soul,  early  theories  of,  21,  33,  ?>off.  ; 
transmigration,  123  Jjf'.  ;  "  fall  by 
sin,"  128;  in  the  "Book  of  the 
Dead,"  133/".;  its  material  quality 
in  Anaxagoras,  216 ;  its  physics 
and  theology  in  Empedocles,  246 
ff.  ;  smoke-soul  and  breath-soul, 
249  f.  ;  the  psyche  of  Leucippus 
and  Democritus,  355  ;  object-souls, 

523 

Sound,  Pythagoras  and  the  mechanics 
of,  103 

Sources  of  Greek  philosophy,  enume- 
rated, 529 

Speech,  value  in  Athens,  382/". 

Sphairos,  of  Empedocles,  241 

Spinoza,  124,  179,  344 

"  Spontaneous  teleology,"  364 

Stage,  technical  treatises,  387  ;  Gor- 
gias  on  stage-illusion,  477 

Stesichorus,  260,  521 

Stesimbrotus  of  Thasos,  497 

Sthenelaidas,  514 

Stobceus,  Johannes,  Florilegiutn,  530, 
and  noies  passifn 

Stoics,  143,  146 

Style,  477  # 

Suess,  Edward,  533,  551 

Supernaturalism,  Hippocratic  pole- 
mic,  311  ;    Thucydidean   polemic, 

Superstition  and  pseudo-science,  283 
"Survival  of  the  fittest,"  244  ;  after 

fifty  years,  365 
Suttee,  32 
Synonymy,  427,  491 
Syracuse,  8,  162 


"Table  of  Contraries,"  107,  178 

Talthybiadoe,  268 

Teleology,  364 yi 

Thales  of  Miletus,  46 ;  traveller, 
astronomer,  etc.,  47;  doctrine  of 
primary  matter,  48 ;  and  Anaxi- 
mander,  52  ;  and  Anaximenes,  56  ; 
and  Heraclitus,  61  ;  and  Phere- 
cydes,  89  ;  and  Empedocles,  231  ; 
definition  of  number,  492  ;  sources, 
531  ;  parallel  ideas,  531/. 

"The  Art"  (of  medicine),  treatise 
on.     See  Hippocrates 

"Theaetetus"  and  "Protagoras"  of 
Plato,  459  ;  literature,  589 

Theagenes  of  Rhegium,  379  /  ; 
sources,  574 

Thebes,  visited  by  Hecatseus,  257 


INDEX. 


609 


Theodoret,  version  of  Theophrastus, 
530,  and  notes  passim 

"  Theogony "  of  Hesiod,  39 ;  of 
Pherecydes,  87 

"  Theologians,"  85^.;  their  suspicion 
of  nature-philosophers,  416 

Theophrastus,  63,  143 ;  on  Demo- 
critus,  334,  345,  356  ;  on  Diogenes 
Ap.,  376  ;  (pva-iKol  Ad^ai,  530,  and 
notes  passim 

Theopompus,  434,  580 

"Theory  of  Heaven,"  by  Diogenes 
Ap.,  374 

Theramenes,  426 

"  Thesis  of  Melissus,"  453 

Thrasymachus,  476 

Three,  as  sacred  number,  106 y". 

"Throwing  Discourses,  The,"  of 
Protagoras,  450^ 

Thucydides,  self-praise,  318  ;  and 
Prodicus,  427  ;  Athenian  liberty, 
436,  516  ;  influence  of  Protagoras, 
465  ;  lineage,  502  ;  exile,  503 ; 
contrasted  with  Herodotus,  503 ; 
motive  of  his  work,  504 :  devotion 
to  accuracy,  505  ;  method  of  inverse 
deduction,  506  ;  applies  semi-his- 
torical method  to  Homer,  507  ;  with 
limitations,  508  ;  his  prehistoric 
Greece,  509  ;  views  on  poets  and 
prophets,  5 loy. ;  on  popular  religion 
and  physics,  512;  his  interpolated 
speeches,  513  ;  to  describe  the 
speaker,  514;  and  to  communicate 
his  own  thoughts,  515;  funeral 
oration  of  Pericles,  516;  Cleon, 
517  ;  testimony  to  the  historian's 
love    of    truth,    518  ;    conclusion, 

5'9 
Thurii,  tablets  of,  84,   129;  laws  of 

Protagoras,  438 
Tima:us,  422 
Time-principle,  94 
Timon,  159,  460 
Toiroj,  195 

•■  Trojan  Dialo;^ue,"  of  Hipjiias,  433 
Trojan  War,   in   Hccatxus,  258  ;    in 

I  lerodotus,  259 
"  Truth,''  Antiphon's  treatise  on,  434 
Tipavvus,  433 
Twelve  Tables,  62 
Two->oui  theory  in  H(jnier,  249 
Tyndall,  John,  344 
"  Tyranny"  and  Democracy,  lO  ;  and 

Orphic-.,  137 


U 


Ui-berweg-Heinze,      GrunJiiss      dcr 
VOL.   I. 


Geschichte  der  Philosophic  des 
Altertlmms,  530 

Unity  and  Plurality,  relative  con- 
ceptions, 201 

Universal  animation,  continuance  of 
doctrine,  572 

Universal  suffrage,  382 

Ursachc-=^x'!X  thing  and  cause,  341 

Usener,  Hermann,  551 


Vacuum,  its  existence  contested  by 
Parmenides,  177  ;  in  the  atomic 
theory,  326  ff.  ;  attempted  proof 
by  Democritus,  352 ;  further  re- 
marks, 553 

Velocity,  Zeno's  problem  of,  199 

Visconti,  9 

Voltaire,  112,  158,  345 

\'ortex  of  atoms,  336 ;  its  Anaxi- 
mandrian  jiarentage,  337 ;  its 
meteorological  origin,  339  ; 
borrowed  from  Leucippus  by 
Diogenes  Ap.,  371  ;  ridiculed  by 
Aristophanes,  376 

Voss,  J.  H.,  430 


W 


War  and  warfare,  Greek    modes,   9, 

382;  doctrine  of  Heraclilus,  7I_/!, 

405  ;  treatises  of  Democritus,  386 
"  Water,    Air,    and    Sites,"    Hippo- 

cratic  treatise  on,  311  ^ 
Windclband,     Geschichte  der    Philo- 

Sophie,  530 
"Wisdom,"  surname  of  Protagoras, 

440 
"Words  of  Opinion"   and    "Words 

of  Truth"  of  Parmenides,   1797"., 

490 
"  Works  and  Days,"  38,  3S7 
"World-egg,"  92/:,  540 
"World-year,"  142/, 
Writing,  13  ;   jirofessional,  580 


X 


Xanlhippu-,  447 

.Xanthu.-.,  498 

Xcniade^,  489 

Xeiiophanes,  and  Heraclilus,  61,  65  ; 
and  Pythagoras,  12.4,  12O  ;  prac- 
tises minstrelsy,  155  ;  attack  on 
tradition,  l^O /.  :  historical  cxphi- 
2    R 


6io 


INDEX. 


nation,  157 ;  his  supreme  god, 
158/. ;  as  Pantheist,  160 ;  geologist, 
162 ;  summary,  id-i,  f.  ;  and  Par- 
menides,  167;  and  Zeno  —  the 
period  reviewed,  205  ff.  ;  and 
Empedocles,  253  ;  and  Hecatseus, 
256  ;  and  corpus  Hippocrat.^  282  ; 
on  verification,  306 ;  sources  and 
chronology,  550 ;  alleged  mono- 
theism confuted,  551 

Xenophon,  and  Anaxagoras,  225 ; 
and  Prodicus,  430  ;  and  the  "  Con- 
stitution of  Athens,"  595 

Xerxes,  478 


Zarathustra,  127 


Zeller,  Die  PJiilosophie  der  Griecken, 
530,  and  noies  passim 

Zeno  of  Elea,  191  ;  champions  doc- 
trine of  unity,  192;  the  "grain  of 
millet,"  192  ff.  ;  paradoxes  of 
motion,  194 ;  "  Achilles  and  the 
tortoise,"  195  ff.  ;  flight  of  an 
arrow,  198  ;  a  problem  of  velocity, 
199 ;  value  of  the  apories,  202 ; 
victories  of  logomachy,  203  ;  his- 
torical aspect,  204 ;  from  Xeno- 
phanes  to  Zeno — review,  205  ff.  ; 
and  Anaxagoras,  225  ;  and  Leu- 
cippus,  317,  350;  and  Protagoras, 
464  ;   and  Gorgias,  484  ;    sources, 

555 
Zeus,     the     Heraclitean,     64  ;     the 

Orphic,  92 
Zulus,  124 


END  OF  VOL.   I. 


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